#you are and have been for a long time one of my favourite artists you’re a huge inspiration to me and Nimona really means the world to me

[ech-e-sketch]

NIMONA ‼️‼️

[taylorswiftstyle]

2024 Golden Globe Awards | Los Angeles, CA | January 7, 2024

Gucci gown

Let it be known my Roman Empire is painted a shade of aurora borealis green. 

I’m biased. I love it. You’re buckling up for a rave. But everyone knew that, right? 

I want it on record that no one should be surprised when they see this lewk on the TSS Favourite Outfits of 2024 list. And that I’ll devise some maniacal strategy to make it make sense to include in every annual list from here to eternity.

Let's get the obvious out of the way in that this shade of green could easily be interpreted as very snakelike and thus a nod to reputation and its forthcoming re-recorded version. I'd even happily apply it to the teal-y and springlike green of debut if we want to go debutation on this.

But if we are to talk about Gucci we have to talk about the precipice the house is upon right now. As it relates to Taylor, I suspect her dress (specific shade TBD - Chartreuse? Apple? Pear? Some other adjacent fruit that’s a feast for my eyes?) is a preview of Fall 2024 and a clear indicator of the path the new creative director Sabato De Sarno’s will take the brand in. Which is to say, muting the eccentricity of Alessandro Michele’s era of Gucci that brought the brand to a new level of renown in favour of something cleaner and sexier. Nicole Phelps for Vogue already noted that De Sarno’s first collection for Gucci — Spring 2024’s Ancora, meaning ‘again’ in English and released in September — evokes a Gucci when Tom Ford was once at the helm, praising De Sarno’s approach to “the upfront sex appeal of those ’60s-by-way-of-the-’90s shapes, and straight riffs on Ford hits” while “establish[ing De Sarno’s] essentials, focusing on cut and proportion, and repeating shapes for emphasis.”

Indeed, Taylor’s gown is directly reminiscent of a Fall 2004 look from Ford’s Gucci - all green sparkles and sexy disco energy. This makes sense when we consider De Sarno’s history and homeworking when he decided to take the creative director post. He told WWD, “Gucci to me equals luxury … the first fashion piece I ever owned was a Gucci jacket by Tom Ford. I still remember I traveled to Rome to buy it with my friend … luxury was really not part of our world. Television was the only way to see fashion for me back then.” He added, “My ambition is to build an aesthetic message with an edited collection that is mindful of Gucci’s heritage and close to my own aesthetics.”

When we consider my personal history with Taylor and Gucci, I don’t have to look very far to immediately picture one of my all time favourite Taylor looks — the 2014 Grammys when she wore a sparkling Gucci Première column gown which is not too dissimilar to this one. What can I say, I’m consistent. The shape, the perfect kiss-the-floor hemming, and obviously the divine colour that really pops on Taylor will have me swooning for a long time. 

At the end of it all, what I come back to is De Sarno’s sentimentality to naming his first collection: Ancora. Again. He told WWD, “Ancora is a word that you use when your desire is not over yet … I want to fall in love with fashion all over again — ancora.” In the same interview he said, “I like words a lot, they have weight and a precise meaning, they convey emotions, so I like artists who use words.” 

It dawns on me that Taylor’s light is shining at its brightest now as she highlights, celebrates, and - indeed - falls in love with all the versions of herself she has ever been. Revisiting her eras past again. And again. In every re-record. In every step she takes on stage. In every cutting line she writes in ruminating and revisiting the experiences of her life and translating them into song. She’s flitting, flirting, memorializing all her past selves in celebration of their summation of her current self. And that’s what this ‘era of eras’ has been. 

So if this is De Sarno’s Gucci I say welcome. Ancora. 

Photos by Monica Schipper/GA and Amy Sussman via Getty Images

[ggrapeejuicee]

„Just… Pretend.”

summary: in which harry convinces you to spend your summer in cape cod with his parents as his ‘girlfriend.’ but everything is just pretend, your not actually his girlfriend and you never have wanted to be his girlfriend, you’ve never seen him as more than harry styles, the singer… but by the end of the summer will that change?

tropes (so far) : fake dating

part one

“It’s just for one weekend.” He pleaded, “Then you can go back to hating me. You never even have to talk to me again, I don’t care.”

You sigh, your head falling backwards with a groan. You did not want to do this at all, but he’d been persistently asking you for days.

“C’mon, please?”

You roll your eyes, “You’re on a date with a new girl every week, I’m sure any of them would be up for it.”

“I can’t just take anyone to my parent’s place.”

“Why not? Or how about you just tell them you’re not seeing anyone right now? They won’t care.”

“I just need you to come, alright? I’ll owe you one, I promise.”

“Why me? There’s a million other people you could take, besides I’ve already met your parents at a show, they’ll never believe we’re seeing each other.”

“And they really liked you!”

“There’ll be a ton of other people that they like too, Harry. Choose anyone else.”

“I can’t.” He sighs.

“You can.”

“I can’t.” He repeats.

You look at him with tired eyes, awaiting his explanation. You’d been over this a hundred times, you had no interest in pretending to be his girlfriend while he visited his parents over the summer.

“I already told them we’re together.” He says quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“What?” You scoff, “You’ve gotta be joking.”

“They just… They met you at the show, and they really did seem to like you, and they kept going on and on about how they want me to find someone who makes me happy and stuff and I shut them up by saying we’re together…”

“You’re unbelievable.” You say, annoyed.!

The fact he’d been telling his parents ridiculous lies without even telling you about it, when said lies actually involved you had pissed you off.

Harry’s parents were lovely, and a producer on his latest album you’d met them a couple times at shows- Especially during the LA residence where you and his parents sat through the concerts in a VIP booth. His mum was lovely, always smiling and knew every single lyric. She told you that she was in Harry’s 0.5% of top listeners on Spotify last year.

You thought that was cute.


You couldn’t relate though, 5 Seconds of Summer were your top Spotify artist- Harry could never find out about that.

“They’ve been asking for me to take you to the beach house for months-“

“Months?!” You interrupt, “How long have you been telling them we’re together?”

He shrugged, “Since the end of the Forum residency?”

“Harry that was SIX months ago!” You yell, “I can’t pretend to be in a six month relationship with you, that’s ridiculous.”

He sits down on the couch, hugging a pillow.

“Yes you can. You practically know everything about me already. We spent every day of the tour together.”

“Everything about you in a career aspect.”

“Everything in general.” Harry corrects, “Sometimes I think you know more about me than I do.”

“I don’t. You’re just saying this because you’re convincing yourself that this ridiculous idea will actually work.”

“Name my first pet.”

“What?” You question. He was being stupid. There is no way you’d ever be able to spend two weeks with his parents over the summer, it was never going to work. It was a recipe for disaster.

“C’mon. You know the answer.”

He just kept staring at you. He wasn’t giving up. The longer you stayed silent the more intense his stare got. When he began to raise his eyebrows you’d given up.

“Max.” You mutter quietly, unimpressed with this whole game he was playing.

“And what am I allergic to?”

“Marshmallows, but you eat them anyway.”

Harry was grinning, and it was pissing you off. He was winning and he knew it.

“My favourite Christmas song?”

You rolled your eyes, “Christmas lights by Coldplay, but you tell everyone that it’s Merry Christmas Everyone because it’s a classic.”

Harry was giving you a ‘I told you so’ look. He wasn’t going to quit until you agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend.

You sigh softly, “Even if I agree to this… It could he really damaging for my career.”

“No one will find out.” His face was more serious now, and you could tell from the way he was looking at you that he meant it, “I’ll make sure of that.”

“But if if does-”

“It won’t.”

“But if it does, because there’s always a chance no matter what you think, then everyone will only think I got hired to tour manage because we’re ‘sleeping together.’” You say, using air quotes, just to further elaborate that this was all fake.

Harry had already got his grammy, he was at the peak of his career he’d be fine no matter what happened. But you were a female music producer in a male dominated industry, if people think you were only hired for this album because you’re fucking the singer- your career was over.

“If people find out I’ll kill you.”

“Does this mean you’re gonna agree?”

You nod, reluctantly.

“Thank you!” He jumps out of his chair, “I swear I’ll make it up to you, thank you so much.”

— — —

If you were in Harry’s position you’d be vigilant of everything, everyone, everywhere. You’d be paranoid of someone jumping through your bedroom window while you were asleep. But Harry was oddly calm. Maybe he was just like that. His lips were formed almost in a smile while he slept, and his eyes were moving under his eyelids- probably from a dream he was having. He wasn’t calm very often- recently he’d been very on edge and anxious about everything, it was nice to see him look so peaceful. You hoped for that sort of peace someday soon.

You had been in the studio going on six hours, and when he’d taken a break from recording so you could go over the tracks he’d managed to fall asleep in that short period of time.

You let him sleep while you packed up the equipment, putting things back into their assigned places, and didn’t bother waking him up until you were 100% ready to go.

“Harry,” You said softly, shaking his shoulder lightly, “Harry we gotta go.”

His eyes opened and he blinked a few times to adjust himself to the light.

“Huh?”

“We only had the studio booked until six, we gotta go.”

“Oh,” He sat up, stretching his arms and cracking his neck that had went into a cramp, “Sorry, don’t even remember falling asleep to be honest.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You shrug, “We got enough done today anyways. You deserve a rest.”

There were only three days left until the day Harry had said you were leaving for his parents place, and you had skipped over the subject every time he’d tried to bring it up. You didn’t really want to think about it because you were dreading it so badly.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” Harry said as you left the studio building.

“No, it’s alright.” You say, “I’ll just get an Uber.”

Harry glared at you, “Y/N, just get in the car.”

You glare back. But it had been a long day so getting a free lift wasn’t so bad.

“So.” He said, starting the car. “We gotta go over some things.”

“About the album?” You play dumb.

“… No.” He rolls his eyes, “Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Love, you gotta tell me some stuff about you. My parents are gonna ask me shit and I don’t have a clue what to tell them.”

You groan. You should’ve stuck to your gut and got an Uber.

“Like what.”

He shrugs, “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple.” You reply.

“Mines is blue.”

“I know,” You reply.

“What’s your favourite song?” He asked.

You laughed to yourself a little.

“Jet black heart,” You grin, knowing you’d get some sort of reaction out of this answer, “By 5 Seconds of Summer.”

“5 Seconds of Summer?” Harry scoffs, “They’re punks!”

You roll their eyes, “They turned to pop music and half of them are married, they’re hardly punks.”

“You know one of them dated my sister, right?” Harry groaned.

“Yep,” You grin, “And wrote a banging tune about it as well.”

“Don’t remind me.” He muttered.

“Look, you asked me a question and I gave you an honest answer. You can’t complain.”

“I know, I know.” Harry said, “You got any exes?”

You raise your eyebrows, “What?”

“This is the kind of stuff I need to know! Like I dunno if I’m your first boyfriend and all that.”

“Harry… I’m 24 years old. You’re not my first boyfriend.”

You said it almost as if he was your boyfriend. It sent a chill down your spine. This was going to be a long few weeks.

“Good to know.” He said.

He dropped you off outside your apartment.

“I guess the next time I see you will be for when we’re leaving, yeah?”

You nod. There was no studio session booked until after his vacation to Cape Cod, where his families beach house was, so he was right. The next time you see him would be at the airport.

“Flights at seven.” He says.

“Got it.”

The next few weeks were going to be hell.

part two coming soon…

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[bbtsficrecs]

BTS FIC RECS PART 4 Part 4 of some of my favourite BTS fanfics. Please do consider liking, reblogging and/or commenting on the fics you like. There are so many wonderful and amazing authors out there who do not get the recognition they deserve. So please send them lots of love to keep them going. If you're on here, then know I enjoyed every second of reading your story ♡ There will be two parts 4 as it's (sadly?) too long to be saved under one post. Stay tuned for part 5, joon recs will be added!

Please let me know if some of the links aren’t working. Happy reading!

⊹ Navi ‣ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.1 | Part 5 |

​⊹ Hell Is Empty - drabble Love triangle AU | a | @aquagustd​ ‣ An important phone call between Yoongi & OC.

⊹ You’re The Best I’ve Ever Had  Boyfriend Jungkook, Chubby reader | a, f, s | @adoredcore��​ ‣ Jungkook’s touches were so soft. So soft you almost barely even felt them. Keyword: almost. His smooth fingertips ran along your silky skin, while the tip of his pink tongue ran across the nape of your neck.

⊹ Fool Me Once Fuckboy AU | a, s | @jeonqkooks​​​ ‣ You never expect anything from Jungkook, but somehow he always manages to let you down.

⊹ Attitude CEO Jungkook au | s | @lushtans​​​ ‣ Your relationship with your CEO is... Rather complicated. Aside your professional relationship, he fucks you whenever he feels like it and as much as you hate to admit the truth, you love it. 

⊹ Don't Worry, Be Happy Daddy Jungkook AU, | f | @jvngkook97 ‣ "You guys have been trying to conceive for a little over a year now, but have yet to be fully successful."

⊹ Trap Idol Jungkook AU, | f | @jiminpitys ‣ In which you show up at your boyfriend's concert soundcheck as a surprise, and to your own, he’s wearing an outfit that’s bound to make you feel a certain way.

⊹ Addicted College AU, | f , s | @sparklingchim ‣ Your boyfie Jungkook fucking you silly.

⊹ B i g o l e f r e a k Friends with benefits AU | f , s | @joonberriess ‣ You’re both exclusive only to each other. Jungkook fucks the way he acts—crazy, hard. too bad you’re only here for the ride..

⊹ Foundation - Part 01, 02, 03 feat Yoongi Non-idol doctors AU | f , s, a | @hamsterclaw ‣ You know Jungkook is a fuckboy. So why are you letting him fuck with you? Featuring Yoongi.

⊹ Paint me naked Artist Jungkook AU | f , s, a | @gimmethatagustd ‣ After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?  

⊹ Why are you so late? Idol Jungkook AU | f , s | @kimnjss

‣ With such a packed scheduled, you’d think Jungkook would be on top of his game. But when a morning rolling around the sheets with you is thrown into the mix, it’s expected for him to want to take his time.

⊹ Our beloved summer - Series (on-going) Producer Jungkook AU | f, s, a | @jeonqkooks ‣ You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

⊹ Heaven can wait Chubby reader AU | f, s ish | @adoredcore ‣ "What’s a chance I’ll take baby I’ll stay heaven can wait."

⊹ Midnight cravings Established relationship AU | f | @hobiholic ‣ You want to go to the convenience store late at night to fulfill your midnight cravings but a sleepy Jungkook stops you.

⊹ Wet dreams Somnophilia AU | s | @kookiecrumb ‣ “I want you to use me…whenever you need me,”

⊹ Look at you -  Risqué drabble Risqué couple AU | s, f | @mercurygguk ‣ Mirror shopping with your boyfriend turns into something else entirely.

⊹ In the middle of the night Friends with benefits AU | s, f | @joonsmoonluna ‣ It’s the middle of the night and Jungkook’s in need of you

⊹ Like I'm famous Idol Jungkook AU | s, f | @softyoongiionly ‣ It’s New Years Eve and Jungkook would rather be anywhere else than at his company’s massive party. Sure, he’s a guest of honor and his team rented out the nicest hotel in Seoul, but ringing in the New Year with you on the other side of the world just feels wrong. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to celebrate without the woman he loves, but maybe- just maybe…he won’t have to…

⊹ Strangers to lovers Established relationship AU | s | @kissmetae ‣ You’re a regular at the gym and today you decided to workout late. You thought you were alone, but it turned out there was one other person at the gym and you so happened to be his gym crush…

⊹ My dear friends Friends to lovers AU | s, f, a | @kooktrash ‣ Just friends? Keep telling yourself that, you and Jungkook have always danced on the line of friendship and something more but lately you’ve struggled being able to tell where you guys stand.

⊹ Red - Part 03 Pregnancy AU | s, f, a | @taestefully-in-luv ‣ You drunkenly sleep with your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Can’t be that bad right? Unless he gets you pregnant.

⊹ As we were - Series (on-going) Cheating/Infidelity AU | s, a | @archivedkookie ‣ Your husband cheats on you and find comfort in someone else’s arms. He claims he’s happy—but is he really?

⊹ Imagine Model Jungkook AU | s, f | @chryblossomjjk ‣ Jungkook wants nothing more than to spend your anniversary cuddled up in a fancy hotel bathroom, eating takeout and binge watching TV shows. You, on the other hand, have something more exciting in mind. 

⊹ Practice - part 02, 03 Fuckboy Jungkook AU | s, a | @chryblossomjjk ‣ You usually spend Friday nights on your own. Tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, Jungkook, decides to pay you a visit.

⊹ Lost Cause Cheating AU | a | @kooksbunnnn ‣ Jungkook comes back to you after his 10 day trip to Busan, and you sense something different about him. 

⊹ The Boy With Galaxies In His Eyes Idol AU | a, s, f | @oddinary4bts ‣ You had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

⊹ Beyond Infinity - As We Were drabble As We Were Couple AU | a, s, f | @archivedkookie ‣ Jungkook does something you always dreamt about, and it ends up with the most beautiful night of your life.

⊹ What If I Love You Too Much Single Mom AU | a, s, f | @taleasnewastime ‣ Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself.

⊹ Services For A Queen Sub!JK AU | s | @taegonia ‣ Jungkook serves his queen in more ways than just as the royal head of security.

⊹ Cold Nights & Blurred Lines FWB & College AU | a, s, f | @awrkive ‣ Jungkook and you have been keeping a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. But as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. Is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? It definitely is. Will you do something about it? Both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

⊹ Strictly Platonic Bestfriends to Lovers & College AU | a, s, f | @jeonqkooks ‣ Sometimes, Jungkook can be a little selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you would go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

⊹ In The Middle Of The Night FWB AU | s, f | @joonsmoonluna ‣  it’s the middle of the night and Jungkook’s in need of you ⊹ Perfectionist Dancer AU | s | @miraclesatnightfall ‣ "He watched you, with each sensual step you made his eyes darkened with explicit desire" ⊹ Tangle Free Establish Relationship AU | f | @here4btsfics ‣ Bad days lead to you needing your boyfriend for comfort, specifically by playing with his hair.

⊹ As It Was - Apart of Boy With Love Series (on-going) College AU | a | @ggukiepie ‣ You bump into Jungkook days after you find out he has a girlfriend; things don't go so well

⊹ The Habits Of A Broken Heart Soulmate & Unrequited love AU | a, f | @softykooky ‣ Jungkook and you are soulmates. So says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. However, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak.  ⊹ Blackout - part 02, 03 Best friends to Lovers | s, a, f | @jjungxkook ‣ Utility bills shooting up like this should be an international crime. Luckily, Jungkook has the perfect idea(s) to save up money and make your night sinfully unforgettable.

⊹ Step Brother Step Siblings AU | s | @aris-ink ‣ Sub yn *innocently* dry humps her step brother jk while he plays video games.

⊹ Forbidden Romance Step Siblings AU | s | @aris-ink ‣ "It wasn’t unusual for your stepbrother to check up on you before bed. You’ve grown closer than you initially thought you would; it turned out that beneath the surface, you and Jungkook weren’t that different, after all."

⊹ My Perfect Patient Dentist Office AU | s, f | @pinkcherrybombs ‣ Jaw pain is just as much of a pain in the mouth as it is in the ass, but don't worry, your favorite dentist is sure to fix you right up, using some special methods.

⊹ Confessions - part 02 Office AU | a | @pinkcherrybombs ‣ Since we're about to die, I need you to know, I've always loved you, Jungkook.

⊹ Getting Railed Boyfriend Jungkook AU | s | @dearlytea ‣ Getting dicked by your boyfriend during a train ride.

⊹ Make You Mine College AU | a, s, f | @mercurygguk ‣ Your first day at your new college is quite eventful to say the least. But everything seems slightly less chaotic when Jeon Jungkook offers to help you on your way – if only knowing him wasn’t an even bigger mess than the day you first met.

⊹ Catch 22 College AU | s, f | @alluremin ‣ You and your best friend had agreed: college was for a good time only, no serious relationships were necessary. Who knew that a frat boy would be the one to shake up that notion?

⊹ Tolerate It - part 02 Failing marriage! au | a | @lmaosope ‣ Marriage is difficult, and every married couple fights. but jungkook has been late one too many times and broken one too many promises. it has you wondering why you give everything for a man who simply tolerates you.

⊹ Make You Mine Jock Jk au | a , s, f | @mercurygguk ‣ Your first day at your new college is quite eventful to say the least. But everything seems slightly less chaotic when Jeon Jungkook offers to help you on your way – if only knowing him wasn’t an even bigger mess than the day you first met.

⊹ His Throne - 01, 02, 03 Prince JK au | a, s, f | @jiminsa ‣ You, a maid for the royal family, have sex with the irresistible prince Jeon Jungkook on his throne.

[stylesharrys]

Baby Styles | WILAY Spin-Off

A/N: it's been forever since I wrote when I look at you and I promised ages ago I would do some little spin-off fics... here is one for you guys that I had over on patreon :)

WC: 2,049

Then Y/N sees it, the tears starting to well in her daughter’s eyes as she sinks into Harry’s chest. Her heart starts to break, reaching closer for her baby, but she grabs hold of Harry’s arms as the first of the tears begin to fall.

He frowns down at his little girl, worries fogging his senses and his heart beating sporadically against his chest. Harry holds her closer, eyes shifting to Y/N, who looks completely distraught.

“Dais… what’s wrong? This is exciting. You’re going to be a big sister. We’re going to have a baby Styles!” Y/N tries to sell it, but the child’s mouth only starts to turn downcast, and a small sob slips past her lips.

“But Harry won’t be my Daddy anymore.”

or

Y/N's got some news and Daisy finally asks Harry to be her real dad.

//

Daisy’s favourite part of the day has to be bedtime.

Forget playing with her friends at school, or bathtime where Y/N lets her swish around the tub like a mermaid, or Aunt Akasha or Gemma feeding her up with ice cream. Daisy thoroughly enjoys bedtime because more often than not, it’s her only time with her Dad that goes undisturbed.

Since she can remember, Harry has always put Daisy to bed. The exception of those couple of months he was touring a year ago, but he still FaceTimed her at every bedtime and read her a passage from whatever book they had chosen for that week.

Y/N putting Daisy to bed is never the same. She’s always argued so. Y/N doesn’t read the same as Harry. She doesn’t do the voices, or make the faces, or execute the dramatic pauses.

She tries, but it’s not the same. And Daisy has made her opinion on Y/N’s bedtimes clear.

The four-year-old has grown into a complete ball of sass in the past two years, and the entire family knows it.

Y/N argues it’s Harry rubbing off on her, that she’s picking up his quirks and mishaps. Harry tries not to laugh when he watches the child strop off sulking because Y/N’s told her she’s settling her to bed that night.

“Daddy, come look!”

Harry sets the plates on the table as she calls him from the living room. Stifling a yawn, he follows the voice of the little girl and finds her bouncing on the balls of her feet, in front of the coffee table.

She’s drawn a picture, a reasonably artistic one; he won’t lie. It’s of Harry, that much he can tell. He’s sat in the home studio he and Y/N had built out in the garden next to the shed last year, his red guitar sat in his lap with a mop of brown curls on his head.

He grins. “Is tha’ me, petal? Looks good! Should we stick it on the fridge with your other ones?”

She nods, handing him the paper and scurrying past him toward the kitchen, nearly bumping into Y/N’s legs on the way and earning a disapproving look from her mother for it.

“Careful, Dais, it’s hot in here,” Y/N warns gently.

She doesn’t say anything, instead rummages through the drawer beside the fridge for another letter magnet. She retrieves a P and Harry lets her pin it to the fridge door, a triumphant grin to her lips as she places her hands to her hips.

“What do you think, Mummy? Do you like my picture of Daddy?” She asks with bright eyes.

Y/N squints down at the picture, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Love it, babe. Did Dad’s hair perfectly, didn’t you.” She praises.

Harry squints in teasing offence at his fiance, the front of his curls tied above his head and looking like a small beansprout.

“I thought you liked my hair?” He feigns offence as he regards the young girl and she shrieks out a wholesome laugh at her Dad’s behaviour.

“I do!” She jumps, stilling back on her feet and tilting her head to the side. “But it is getting very long, Daddy.”

Y/N stifles a snort, and Harry leaps forward to smack her bum playfully, Daisy covering her eyes with an amused shriek. “Right you,” Harry turns back to her, “go wash your hands and put your colours away, Mum’s dishing dinner up.”

Daisy doesn’t wait a moment longer when she sees the dino nuggets being piled on her plate, rushing to get her things tidied and hands cleaned.

It leaves Y/N and Harry alone again for a moment, and he takes advantage of it, wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist from behind and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

His hands sprawl out across the expanse of her stomach, heart skipping a beat at the thought of watching it grow again, as it had four years ago.

“Are we gonna tell her tonight?” He asks softly and Y/N hums, taking a shaky breath.

She’s nervous. She doesn’t know how Daisy is going to react about being a big sister. The four-year-old has never even mentioned having a sibling, and everyone is very much aware of how much Daisy enjoys attention.

Y/N’s worried her little girl will kick off into a meltdown and she doesn’t think she can stomach a distraught child tonight.

Harry gives her a reassuring squeeze. “She’s going to be fine with it. Honestly reckon she’ll be obsessed.”

He’s only trying to lighten the weight on her shoulders, which Y/N does appreciate, but if she’s honest, it’s not doing much to help.

She nods with a sigh. “Yeah, she should be alright. Just all new to all of us.”

//

Settled on the sofa with The Grinch Who Stole Christmas on the TV and three mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table, Daisy and her parents cuddle up on the couch.

The fire is crackling, making the moment all the cosier for the three. Daisy snuggles between Harry and Y/N, her hair in damp braids that Y/N had plaited after her bath and her feet are cosy in a pair of Christmas socks.

Harry has an arm thrown over the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing against Y/N’s shoulder to catch her attention. She looks over to him, sleepy look on her face and Harry thinks he wouldn’t mind settling Daisy a little earlier than usual, just to have some well deserved alone time with his fiance.

He nods his head between them, down to the little girl that’s snuggled against their sides. Y/N purses her lips, blinking back the sleep she desperately needs, and nods.

She shuffles on the sofa, turning her attention to Daisy while Harry pauses the movie. Daisy is quick to frown, something that makes a slight smile creep across her mother’s lips.

“But the doggy!” she whines.

Harry gently lifts her from under her arms and pulls her backwards, so she’s settled in his lap. He keeps his arms around her small middle as they both face Y/N.

“We can watch the doggy in a minute, Dais. Mummy and Daddy have something very exciting to tell you.”

Daisy’s eyes light up, dazzling with curiosity and excitement. “Are we getting a doggy?” She shrieks, hands clapping as she bounces in Harry’s lap. He bites back a loving laugh and pulls her closer to keep her still.

Harry kisses the top of her head, and Y/N reaches to stroke Daisy’s clothed feet.

“No, sweetheart. Not a puppy.”

She frowns, can’t possibly understand what could be more exciting than getting a puppy.

Harry gives her body a gentle squeeze, his eyes on Y/N as she takes another shaky breath. “Mummy’s got a baby in her belly.” He whispers to the four-year-old.

It takes a moment, then another. Daisy doesn’t make a sound, barely even cringes at the mention of a baby. She’s been around enough of them through cousins and family friends to know how needy and clingy and whiney they are.

A frown starts to etch onto Harry’s face as Y/N’s lips part. Why has she not said anything?

“Baby?” she finally repeats, eyes now glued to her mother’s clothed stomach and Y/N nods her head, hands instinctively reaching for her middle.

Harry’s eyes begin to well, can’t believe how perfect his life has become. The woman of his dreams, two children of his own.

“Yeah, petal. Baby in Mummy’s belly.”

Then Y/N sees it, the tears starting to well in her daughter’s eyes as she sinks into Harry’s chest. Her heart starts to break, reaching closer for her baby, but she grabs hold of Harry’s arms as the first of the tears begin to fall.

He frowns down at his little girl, worries fogging his senses and his heart beating sporadically against his chest. Harry holds her closer, eyes shifting to Y/N, who looks completely distraught.

“Dais… what’s wrong? This is exciting. You’re going to be a big sister. We’re going to have a baby Styles!” Y/N tries to sell it, but the child’s mouth only starts to turn downcast, and a small sob slips past her lips.

“But Harry won’t be my Daddy anymore.”

It feels like the world around them has shattered, can’t hear anything but white noise. Harry struggles to swallow down the need to throw up, and Y/N can’t make sense of anything around her.

Does she think Harry won’t be her father anymore?

A chill runs down his spine. He hasn’t heard Daisy call him Harry in two years.

Harry makes quick work of spinning her around in his lap, standing her on the sofa, so she’s looking at him. Daisy’s face is red, blotchy with tears, and she’s started crying so hard she’s given herself hiccups.

He wipes her eyes. “‘Nough of that, petal. I’m always gonna be your Daddy. Where’s this come from?”

Y/N shuffles closer, somehow managing to sit wedged in Harry’s side as she reaches for her daughter, too. She rubs her back soothingly, one hand intertwined with Harry’s.

Daisy shrugs, bottom lip pouted out and quivering. Y/N and Harry never want to see her so upset again.

“Because the baby is Styles, and-and I’m not! And Daddy will love the baby more than me because the baby is Styles like Daddy, but I’m Y/L/N like Mummy. And Mummy will be Styles at the wedding, so I’ll be all alone, and you won’t love me anymore, and I won’t have a Mummy or Daddy.”

She bursts into a fiery fit of tears, unable to stop her entire little body from trembling as the sobs wrack through her. Though both parents struggle to keep their tears at bay, neither of them can seem to help the amusement that trickles across their lips.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Y/N coos.

Harry holds her close, peppering kisses to her cheeks and refusing to let go, heart crushed at the raw sobs that sound through the living room.

“Daddy is going to love baby Styles just as much as he loves you, Dais. You’re always gonna be my little girl,” he promises wholeheartedly, but Daisy isn’t having any of it.

“But I want to be Styles, too! I want to be Styles like Mummy and Daddy and baby.” She wails out breathlessly, face now bright red as she struggles to catch her breath.

Y/N and Harry meet each other's gaze, blinking once, then twice. She wants to be a Styles.

Never once has Daisy said anything about her last name being different from Harry’s. Never once has she related the name difference to him not really being her father, and Y/N doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Okay… we’ll call you Daisy Styles from now on then,” Harry suggests to her, and though it’s a decent proposition, it’s not quite official enough for Daisy.

She wipes her arms and shifts in his hold, now looking between both of her parents and they give her a moment to compose herself, catch her breath and calm her thoughts.

“And my teachers and doctors and everyone! I want everyone to call me Daisy Styles!”

They look to each other, a warm smile spreading across Harry’s lips and Daisy watches them silently converse with wide eyes. Y/N raises a brow, a quirk in the corner of her lips and Harry nods softly, a broad smile breaking across his face.

“Okay,” Y/N breathes.

Daisy’s eyes light up, her back straightening as she quickly wipes her face and sniffles back any remaining tears. Harry squeezes his fiance’s hand, raising it to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“We will get the paperwork and change your name to Daisy Styles. But, you have to promise to be a nice big sister to the baby.”

She nods, quick and eager. Daisy throws her arms around both of her parents, jumping on the sofa between them, and Harry thinks he could fucking burst.

Daisy and Baby Styles.

[f6bron]

sequoia.

pairing : iso x gn!reader

notes : mutual pining ? i’ll let the audience decide , might be ooc since i wrote this based on all of his available voicelines so far ( . — . )

The echoing clang of bullets hitting metal targets reverberated through the shooting range as you took aim alongside Iso, the new recruit to the Valorant Protocol. You’d been itching to get to know him better, and what better way to break the ice then some target practice?

“Clean shot! I should let Chamber know he has a rival now.”

Iso shrugged and chuckled, as an acknowledgement to your compliment.

“So, Iso… I heard you isolate your enemy into that domain of yours? Interesting…” you remarked, keeping your eyes trained on the target as you shot a bullet straight to the head.

Iso nodded shyly, his fingers still gripping the handle of his pistol. 

“Y-yeah… Just my way to secure a 1v1 duel…”

Oh, what the hell am I saying, Iso thought, mentally facepalming at his awkward response. He felt silly for acting awkward in front of you. To be honest, he finds you really, really beautiful. Maybe that’s the reason.

But to his surprise, you merely gave him a soft smile. 

“That is sooo freaking cool ~! Can you bring me there someday?” you asked, your tone playful and light.

Iso was surprised, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“Why would I bring you there? I don’t think having a gun duel with an ally there is a good idea–”

You giggled, which interrupted his words. “Not in a gun duel, silly. I just wanna know what it looks like in the dimension.”

Warmth crept onto Iso’s face, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment at having misunderstood your context. “O-oh… Yeah, sure. I hang out a lot there even though there’s nothing much… Mostly when I need alone time to read my books or… listen to music.”

“And, having company once in a while would be nice.” He smiled, his eyes glanced at you.

“Mhmm, then I’ll be waiting ~” you replied, your curiosity piqued. You adjusted your stance, firing a few more rounds with precise accuracy.

“Oh ! Talking about music,” you continued, gesturing to the earbuds that Iso always had whenever you saw him. “I always see you got your earbuds on all the time. I assume you’re a music enthusiast, yes?”

Iso nodded, his fingers fumbling with the gun’s magazine as he exchanged it. “It helps me to stay relaxed and focused. Music has this way of grounding me, you know?”

You smiled, appreciating his honesty. “That makes sense. What kind of music do you listen to then?”

As Iso put his pistol down, he began to list off his favourite genres and artists. You noticed the way his purple-coloured eyes lightened up. You were surprised by the variety of his tastes, from classical compositions to high-energy EDM tracks. Your conversation flowed seamlessly, as Iso continued geeking over his profound hyperfixation.

“So, do you have a favourite song?” you asked, genuinely interested.

Iso took a moment to think before answering. He has so many favourites, heck, he could create millions of playlist when he thought of it. Then, a song came to his mind, “There’s this one song that I find myself going back to quite often. It’s called ‘Helena’ by My Chemical Romance.

The name caught your attention, “Wait ! I know that song ! What’s the worst that I can say ~”

Iso chuckled, he continued singing along, “Things are better if I stay ~”

“So long and goodnight, so long and goodnight.”

Both of you started giggling, which lightened up the mood surrounding the both of you.

Iso started to fiddle with his gloved fingers, his expression softening. “To me, that song carries a powerful and cathartic expression of one’s emotions surrounding the loss of a loved one, so it has become one of my favourites.”

You were touched by his description and decided to make a mental note to listen to the song again later. As you both finished up with the training at the shooting range, you couldn’t help but feel a connection forming between you and Iso. He’s slowly getting along with you, no longer the quiet and reserved recruit. 

Someone you could genuinely relate to.

As the both of you left the shooting range, the two of you talked and laughed, not just about combat training but about music, books and everything in between. His giggles caught your attention, the way he would bring up his hand to stifle his laughs. 

Goddamn, he’s cute.

You didn’t expect the training you had with him could be the perfect time to bring you both closer. You couldn’t wait to explore Iso’s unique dimension with him, discovering not just his hidden talents but the beauty of the world he had specifically created for himself.

“So, about that dimension visit,” you teased, “When can we make that happen?”

Iso grinned, the embarrassment from earlier dissipating. “Whenever you’re ready. I’d be happy to show you around the place.”

“Can we make that a promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

(A/N): my love for iso is growing… he’s so cutie patootie… do u get me…

masterlist.

[seonghwaddict]

EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT LOVE

TRACK 1. while you were sleeping ft. kim hongjoong

“3:30 am // that night something turned in my heart // while you were sleeping, i fell in love.”

producer!kim hongjoong x reader. requested by @atinycafe. genre. fluff. warnings. none. rating. sfw. wc. 737.

lilo’s notes. while you were sleeping with hongjoong is the best concept ever you absolute genius.

series masterlist . taglist is open

you supposed there had been many signs you were in love with kim hongjoong.

despite not having been in a relationship for very long, you saw yourself spending the rest of your life with him. he was always so nice, so caring. the way you met him was rather funny, you thought.

it started with a tweet of you praising an album that had recently been released by one of your favourite artists, specifically whoever produced one of the songs. that producer happened to be him. after your post gained attention, it somehow reached him, the compliments making him grin as he replied with a simple ‘thank you :)’. needless to say, you were surprised and a little embarrassed, not expecting him to ever notice you.

at the time you had been living in the states, but soon you moved back to korea for work reasons.

it was a pure coincidence that you went out to a little restaurant with your friends one night. one of them asked if they could bring another friend, and since everyone else seemed to know “joong” you agreed too, mildly curious.

turns out you had some friends in common with the producer.

he’d never forget the first time he saw you. there you were, laughing with your friends as you sipped on your iced tea. you hadn’t even said anything and he already decided he liked you, drawn to your bright smile and light aura.

after that you found yourself spending more time with him, alone. since your first interaction was about music, he offered to take you to his studio. without hesitation, you agreed enthusiastically and soon found yourself in a small but comfortable room. the beige walls and couch felt cozy, the warm glow of a yellow lamp encasing you as he sat you down at his desk and showed you some songs he was working on.

something stirred in him as he noticed just how interested in his work you were, hanging onto every word he said with curiosity and wonder dancing in your eyes. he wasn’t exactly sure why he wasn’t able to hold himself back, usually a man of great control, but before he knew it the words were spilling out.

“you’re beautiful.”

you’d stilled at the sudden compliment, not believing someone as handsome as him would ever call you that. it was then that he asked you out, and after that everything you just fit into each other like puzzle pieces made for each other. you don’t remember times where you had been happier than your were with him—feeling giddy at just the thought of his pretty face, a bubbly rhythm in your steps as you practically danced down streets after leaving his place, the silly smile on your face and blushing cheeks making strangers grin back.

you’d always loved the dates he took you on; arcades, movies, nights in your apartment. you thought of them fondly as you laid in bed, unable to fall asleep. you eyes fell on the dresser beside your bed, a clear vase holding a bouqet of light pink flowers.

just hours before he had showed up at your front door, giving you the bouqet before dragging you out to a surprise he had planned for you. he took you somewhere high up where you could see the whole city, the sun setting in the horizon and drenching the sky in soft pastels as he held your hand and kissed your cheek. you’d found a bench to sit at, talking for hours until it got too cold and he dropped you off at home.

then he spent some more time with you, watching a movie—he chose la la land because he knew it was one of your favourtes—before leaving to go finish up some work. so you were left alone, tossing and turning in your bed and giggling at memories.

i love him.

the thought hit you so suddenly you sat up with wide eyes.

oh my god. i love kim hongjoong.

you didn’t know how you came to the conclusion, but it seemed so right; six months in and your feelings only continued to grow, it was only a matter of time until you realised it. the clock on your bedside table read 3:30 in the morning as you collapsed back into bed, flustered at reality.

networks. @cromernet @cultofdionysusnet @wonderlandnet @pirateeznet

series taglist. @tocupid @jjoongstar @hongjoongsprincess @green-agent

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[calummss]

20 Reasons To Love You | Klaus Mikaelson

part one: 1920s Love : masterlist

summary: after your encounter with the original vampire, he asks you to the school dance. your salvatore cousins try to get in the way but you’re tired of being protected. you are starting to like the so called original vampire, but is it an illusion or the real deal

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 3.1k

a/n: part 2 is finally out. i love this piece so much because just like the first the reader is confident but unsure at the same time and i think that accurate describes me and many others. here’s to my fellow klaus mikaelson lover that love him as much as i do (not possible). enjoy!!

‘I’m here to take you to the 1920s, love.’

You stood at the door, too many words racing through your mind.

‘I don’t have a dress, I— well I never expected to go so I never bought a dress.” You sighed, each word becoming more airy as you managed to take him in. ‘I don’t have a dress…’

Dark blonde hair, pink plush lips, a white suit that fit him like a second skin. He was handsome. More handsome than you’d ever say out loud, the rumours of his behaviour and actions not scaring you, but making you tone down any infatuation that could be drawn out.

‘I thought it best you’d wear an actual dress from your decade,’ He nodded one of his witches over, his arms engulfed around a light pink box, a white ribbon decorating it. ‘I saved this for a special occasion.’ He smiled at you. ‘I think today is it.’

‘Original?’

‘Original.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ your eyes never left the box, ‘I would ruin it. It’s too precious.’

He gave his witch another silent order who pushed past you to walk into the house.

‘Hello?’ You shouted at her but she was long gone.

Klaus took a closer step, so close the smell of his perfume hit you softly, ‘Do me a favour and wear it, darling. You could only do it justice. We don’t have much time now. Change.’

‘But—‘

‘No buts.’

‘Fine,’ you sighed as you took hold of the dress box, your cheeks starting you shake the apples of your cheeks, smiling ear to ear as you finally held it in your hands. ‘Wait for me.’

‘Do you even have to ask, love?’

Returning a smile you hurried away, the dress screaming to be worn as you couldn’t believe that your frame would wear something so beautiful and of such good quality from decades ago. A decade that had long been your favourite. Wearing a piece of history, brought to you by a vampire everyone seemed terrified out of their minds.

When you finally got the dress on and fixed your hair as well as jewellery, you headed back downstairs. Your heels carrying you differently; at least you thought. Klaus still stood by the entrance outside, eyeing something in the front yard.

‘How do I look?’ You called out, his head turning in an instant.

‘Like the sparkles of an ocean on an early summer morning.’

Your heart fluttered. Never had you heard anything so romantic. Whenever you asked someone they simply said pretty. Barely paying attention to the way you looked but Klaus, Klaus looked at you like a canvas. Paying attention to every detail like he was an artist, captivated by his creation. Ready to hang it up to admire it all year around.

Arriving at Mystic Falls High School you already saw that the grounds had empty liquor bottles laying on the ground, waiting for someone to trip over. You almost were a victim. As for the people in this crowded area, they reminded you of the beer bottles: empty and pretty useless. But they were carefree; unaware of the reality that was Mystic Falls.

Every girl looked similar. All wore short flapper dresses and headbands only the colours differentiating them from one another. They looked beautiful but repeativness got boring fast. You however shined. A white satin gown, thin straps, insinuating your chest, the fabric gently hugging your curves as it pooled at your feet. Paired with a beautiful pearl necklace and a white fur scarf that completed the look. Simple but classy.

Walking up towards the entrance, you locked eyes with a certain someone you tried to ignore the entirety of the evening, but he saw you. The glare in his eyes causing you to stop in your tracks, his raven hair that blended into the night coming closer.

‘Didn’t expect to see you here, Damon.’ You mused, your right arm hooked with Klaus’, your other hand on his shoulder as you smiled at Damon.

‘Go home.’ Damon stated, his eyes drilling holes into your soul.

‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’

‘Actually I can,’ he smirked, his stupid grin spreading heat through your limbs. ‘I am your legal guardian.’

‘Only ‘cause you killed Uncle Zach,’ you snapped, taking your arms from Klaus’ body, stepping closer to Damon, asserting yourself against him. ‘Not very guardian like?’

Damon’s head scanned the surrounding area, making sure no one could listen in. ‘Don’t cause a scene, Y/n.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’

‘Again,’ he tried suppressing his voice, ‘don’t cause a scene and go home.’

‘No.’ You snapped. ’I am going to my school dance which by the way I have more of a right to be at than you, and enjoy dancing with my date.’

‘Date from hell…’

‘Well then he isn’t much different from you after all,’ you placed your arms back in Niklaus’ arm, giving Damon a sarcastic smile. ‘Move.’

Damon didn’t move, instead he stepped closer, his eyes continuing to stay on you, his lips pressed together.

‘You heard the lady,’ Klaus said. You didn’t look at his face but you could tell he was smirking at Damon. ‘Move, Damon.’

Klaus and you stepped past Damon, walking towards the entrance, the music increasing in volume as you stepped through the door.

Down in the gym, people were already dancing. Music blasting through the room, balloons, tinsel and much more of the decorations the walls and floor carried that you dragged yourself to every Tuesday and Thursday, dreading to move. Rather wanting to participate in every girl’s favourite subjects: English and history. Walking towards the dance floor you saw Damon walking up to Alaric, their eyes on you as soon as Damon whispered something and you knew that their eyes would follow your every move.

‘What are they saying?’ You asked Klaus, your eyes still on the pair as you started swaying in rhythm. Bodies close as you felt the warmth of his body.

‘Talking about various ways to ruin our night and all the ways they can kill me.’

You pushed your tongue against your teeth, staring straight ahead into Klaus’ shoulder. ‘Damon, I know you can hear me,’ you started to whisper. ‘Leave me and my dating life alone. I’m 19 years old, not six. And don’t you dare try to ignore me or roll your stupid blue eyes at me because I will rip that little smug of your face.’ You turned around to see Alaric and Damon go towards the punch table, visibly irritated on your behalf yet still they took the hint and backed off for now.

‘I knew there was a reason I liked you.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Don’t hold back on my account.’ He chimed. ‘Feisty women are my weakness.’

‘I’m feisty?’ Not a word generally used to describe you.

‘Hmm, also confident; unsure; great company; an amazing dancer and best of all, not intimidated by me since the second you met me and found out who I was.’

You hesitated before speaking. Was it rude to ask such an invasive question? Would he answer it? Would it spark his mood to change?

‘Why is everyone so afraid of you?’ You asked in a careful tone, not sure if the vampire would switch up on you.

‘I do terrible things.’

‘People do terrible things all the time.’

‘I created new sins.’ His deep eyes gazed at you, his soft plumpish lips leaving every word ingrained into your mind, begging to know what his lips would feel like lingered onto yours.

‘Such as…?’

‘Let’s not get into it, love.’

‘I can handle it.’ You separated your body from his, staring up at him. ‘I have heard what you have done but I’ve also seen your actions: listening to me, talking to me and making me feel interesting, getting me a dress to a school dance I wasn’t planning on going to.’ You smiled slightly. ‘That takes a heart to do.’ You placed your hands above his chest, tapping lightly with an almost jestful tone. ‘And you have a pretty strong one.’

Klaus gazed at you ever so gently, his eyes flickered to your lips as his mind turned hungry at the thought of your kiss. Not craving the taste of warm blood, freshly pumped out of a human vein. No. He craved you in a way that was unfamiliar to him. Klaus wanted you to be close to him, to feel your heartbeat so close it would beat in union with his. To feel your lips on his skin, the taste of your skin without the blood. The thought of tasting your blood left an uncertain feeling in his stomach; quease mixed with disdain. He didn’t want to hurt you or leave a scratch on your skin. All he wanted was the moisture of his lips to sit upon your skin. Light, gently, accepted.

The sound of music faded when you realised you were leaning in. His eyes felt like paralysing poison as you inched closer. Your heart beat in your throat when his face came closer too. He too wanted this. You could feel his breath ricocheting off your face, and when your lips met the music stopped. His lips kissed you gently, coming back for more as one his hands slid towards your face, holding you delicately as the other went down to your back to support you. Your hands moved to his head, grabbing a handful of hair as you parted your lips to let him get a better taste of you. Your mind was blank, your stomach filled to the brim with butterflies that duplicated every second he was touching you; flattering their tiny wings as the space to move began to decrease. Every kiss grew more passionate. Air was flowing out, barely catching breath as he felt like the air you were supposed to breathe all along.

Separating from his touch you let yourself breathe, your chest falling and rising as you held his eyes, too beautiful to be true. Eyes that belonged to a killer that just held you like you were the most delicate flower.

‘Can we go somewhere more quiet?’ You leaned in, your social battery slowly decreasing as you craved a quiet and still place to be with him.

Klaus brought you to his mansion he bought a few weeks ago, saying he was to stay in Mystic Falls for a while. His house was filled with artworks of the most incredible artists. Each piece crafted to perfection.

Guiding you to a back room you took notice of different materials and colours. Canvases and easels to hold them up. One painting was finished by the look of your eyes. It stood on an easel in the middle of the room, close to a candle light that shined just enough to admire the painting.

‘May I speak out loud my interpretation of this painting?’ Your eyes scanned the framed piece, the candle gently casting a light above the painting. ‘I know that artists want to be understood as they pour their thoughts and feelings onto the canvas, yet someone else saying out loud what the artist was too cautious to say themselves, can evoke an uncomfortableness. That someone truly understands them is more often an artist's greatest fear.’

Klaus stood by your right shoulder, silently gazing at his painting from behind your frame. His silence, his breath, made you turn your head to the side. Just enough to catch his breath on your cheek, just enough to let the corner of your mouth tip curl, allowing you to feel his intimacy.

‘I suppose the painter felt lonely whilst crafting their piece. The way dark colours engulf the lighter ones. The way the colours meet but never mix,’

His hand gently brushed along the curve of your shoulder, giving you the insight of Klaus’ guard let down when he was immersed in his art.

‘Careful and precise strokes show me the delicacy behind the fragile thoughts that are meant to be the painter’s release. The small firefly, so tiny its illuminating glow is barely caught with the first impression of the painting, is fascinating to me. Despite the painter’s sadness and pain, there must have been something in the moment that compelled them to leave behind something so coruscating. Something tells me that the painter is trying to find their way. Whether it be to themselves or to someone.’

‘The way you analyse art, Y/n, is beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?‘

‘I suppose I find beauty in darkness quite fascinating…painting or painter,’ you placed your gloved hand on top of his. The warmth of his skin pervasively fighting through the silk fabric.

‘The firefly I must admit is you. You are the firefly in my thoughts. You glow amongst the darkest part of my mind. Just the mere thought of you makes me feel like I am a different man even if I don’t want to change…’

You turned around and gave Klaus a sweet but quick kiss. ‘You don’t have to change. I like you for who you are and I must admit, this night has made me realise just how much I actually like you. It feels fast but safe at the same time.’

Klaus returned it with another kiss. ‘Normally I like a chase but I simply need to be yours.’

‘Would you ever draw me?’ An innocent question, soft- eyed waiting for a response. A small smile sweeping across his face.

‘I actually already have,’ he said, his cheeks a fair rosé, barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t pay attention but you, how you took notice of every detail that made him him.

‘You have?’ You grinned. ‘Why?’

‘I mostly paint things that mean a lot to me,’ he took a look at his paintings. ‘Mostly landscapes…and you…’

It warmed your heart but you didn’t show, only the palm of your hand pressing into your other, love overflowing your body.

‘I suppose one day I should return the favour, though I cannot promise you’ll look anything like the real you.’

Klaus let out a laugh, his eyes smiling like the crescent moon of night that shone over his garden outside. Eyes sparkling like the stars.

‘Would you like another dance outside?’ He asked, noticing your longing look at the porch, illuminated by fairy lights that left a magical feeling within you.

‘I certainly would.’

Holding out your hand you followed him outside, the slight cold breeze nothing but relaxing as you swayed with Klaus again. This time it felt nicer. Alone, just the two, surrounded by nothing but darkness and crickets of the summer night giving your silence a nice touch of tone.

‘I want to give you something,’ Klaus searched for something in his pocket. When he finally pulled it out he continued to say, ‘This vial contains vampire blood.’

You stared at the vile, red liquid calming floating behind the glass.

‘It’s my brother Elijah’s blood.’

Doe eyed and furrowed eyebrows stared back at him, ‘Why not yours?’

‘If I could, trust me I would. For a vampire there’s nothing worse than blood sharing with someone’s partner,’ he held your gaze. ‘But if I gave you my blood, little one, you would die.’

‘I don’t understand? Why would I die?’

‘Well here’s some information only my family and one witch know…I’m a vampire and a werewolf. A hybrid. If I were to feed you my blood you would die the next day. Bad blood.’

‘Oh,’ disappointment covered your words, weirdly enough bummed that it wasn’t Klaus’ blood you would be carrying around to protect you in case you needed it.

‘This blood is here for whenever you decide you want that change in your life you talked about.’ Klaus’ finger grazed against the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. ‘I like you, Y/n and I won’t compel you to take it. I like you and if I could I would spend eternity with you. I know it hasn’t been long but you feel good for me.’

Your lips caught his. ‘Of course I will wear it.’

‘Make sure to keep it safe.’

‘I will.’ You hand found his face, giving in once more into temptation, his sensation too good for you.

You played with the vial between your fingers, a wave of warmth rushing over you as you realised just how much you liked Klaus. But as much as you liked him it was getting late…

‘I think it’s best that I go home. It is late and Damon and Stefan are probably going crazy…’

‘I’ll take you home.’

Klaus dropped you off just before the door, watching as you safely entered the Salvatore house. And before the door even closed you could hear Damon’s taunting voice echoing through the halls of the boarding house.

‘Where have you been?’

‘With my date.’ You carelessly threw the keys to the side, walking past Damon to try and get into the kitchen to get something to drink.

‘You can’t date him, Y/n.’ Damon growled, his eyebrows pulled to his eyes as his voice grew louder. ‘He’s a bad person.’

‘Who cares?’ You uttered, pouring yourself a drink as you watched Damon pace towards you.

‘I care!’

‘Since when?!’

‘Since always!’

‘Damon,’ You breathed. ‘I love you, I truly do but are you so blind to not realise that you too are a bad person? You used Caroline; killed Lexi, Stefan’s only friend; Uncle Zach? Why can those actions be excused by literally everyone yet apparently Klaus is where we all draw the line huh?’ Words spilled from your lips as the pit in your stomach started to burn a ball of annoyance. ‘Because he shows no remorse at all? Newsflash neither did you and just because you feel it now doesn't make your actions any more excused. I like the way he is. I like the fact that he is a bad person but a good person to me. Someone that finally pays attention to me!’

Damon stayed quiet, his face obvious to the hypocrisy that everyone was participating in yet he was still angry at you and the fact that you were capable of making your own decisions no matter how bad or good they were.

‘If he hurts you don’t come crying to me,’ Damon turned around to walk away.

‘Oh please as soon as I cry because of anyone that person ends up hurt. If you’re trying to pretend not to care about me, good luck.’

‘You wish.’

‘Ah fuck,’ you whinced, a wave of pain shooting through your finger.

Damon’s vampire speed brought his feet back to you, your hand in his as he took a look at what pained you.

‘Told you so,’ you mocked.

‘Ass hat.’

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐬

Your hero was determined to save the day, but you were about to discover something more precious than his priceless smile.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ღ Nurse!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ღ 999

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ღ Fluff, literal tooth rotting fluff, period fic, sick fic, hurt/comfort

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ღ Look, I fell in love with Nurse!Bucky and it seems a lot of you did too.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ღ Stuff We Did by Michael Giacchino

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ღ @the-slumberparty Week 3 Artistic Liberty Challenge — Masterlist

𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 ღ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒍𝒍.

𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been a few weeks since you were discharged, and by some miracle, it had been a few weeks since your favourite nurse had slipped you a piece of paper with his phone number. You still couldn’t believe it. The two of you hit it off so well when he took you out for coffee on one of his days off, that, naturally, you gathered up what courage you had and asked him out. It was how you had ended up being Bucky’s girlfriend. 

Life wasn’t always going to be so kind, however.

It was like being run over by a truck, and then a train, and just to make matters even better, your period was the final touch. 

You could hear rain pattering against the window and you felt a rush of gratitude to your past self for having the brilliant idea to gather blankets the night before. 

Then, the realisation dawned on you that today was the day - Bucky had today off and he was planning to take you out for a surprise, and you groaned aloud. You reached for your phone and snatched it from your bedside cupboard, the screen lighting up to show a cute selfie you had coerced Bucky into taking, on your first date. 

Bucky’s number dialled and you shuffled back into the covers, burrowing into self-pity while your stomach cramped and everything ached. You didn’t want to disappoint Bucky, but you didn’t think you could even stand long enough to prepare any damn food, let alone cope with the ‘surprise’. 

“Hey, baby girl!”

It was an effort to stem the tears and choke back a sob. “Hey, Buck,” you replied. “I, uh–I’m sorry, I can’t do today-”

“What’s wrong, are you alright?”

You could hear the concern in his voice and you pictured him frowning, a deep furrow between his brows. “I’m sick again, a-and I got my period and-” The dam broke. Your sobs were quiet and muffled behind your hand but you could hear Bucky on the line moving around. 

“Hey, you’re alright, baby, hang on-” There was a clatter and a distant muffled curse. “Are you at your place?”

Nodding automatically, you realised he couldn’t see. “Yeah, I am, please you don’t need-”

“Nuh-uh, stop that.” There were more clattering sounds and then you heard the rustle of a coat. “I need to make a couple stops first, and then I am going to come and take care of my girl, whether she wants me to, or not.”

Sniffling and hiccuping, you didn’t answer. “You sit tight, baby. Can you get up for me and have some water?” You attempted to move but a rippling pain tore through your stomach and hips, all the way up to your shoulders and down to your toes. Your cry of pain was enough to make Bucky speak louder into the phone, “Okay, no, you stay there, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Can you time me, baby girl? It’ll distract you, and if I am late, every minute is a tub of ice-cream I owe you.”

“Okay,” you whispered, hoping that the gratitude you felt could be heard in your small voice. 

“Atta girl, I’ll see you soon.” The line clicked and you opened the timer, doing as he had said. 

Twenty-seven minutes later, there was a shuffling sound at your front door, then a quiet knock. “It’s me, baby girl, can you open the door? Or should I get Wanda?” You pulled your phone closer and messaged: Wanda has the key, she’s WFH today. 

Footsteps sounded and then voices sounded out your door - your neighbour, Wanda, was a close friend and the two of you had keys to one another’s apartments, in the likely event that either of you forgot your keys. “Give her my love, Bucky,” Wanda said and you heard a set of footsteps retreating, while the lock on your front door unlocked with a quiet click. 

“Hey, baby, I’m here.” The door creaked closed and then you could hear Bucky walking around your apartment. “Where are ya, sweetheart?” Bags rustled in his hands and then his head appeared around your doorway, finding you at last amongst your burrito of blankets. “There you are.”

Bucky padded softly into your room and you watched with glassy eyes as he placed down a bag from Target and CVS on the end of your bed, and a brown paper bag on your bedside cupboard. “How’s my girl?”

“I look and feel horrible-”

“You are never not beautiful, even when you’re hurting.” Bucky knelt down so he could look into your face. “Baby, I am a nurse, remember? Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

You were silent for a moment and Bucky brushed his thumb over your cheek, over the tear tracks. “I feel crappy and everything hurts, and my tummy aches.”

“Well, I have a couple things,” Bucky began, shuffling over to grab the Target bag. “This lil’ fella,” he pulled free a teddy, the material soft and fluffy and in your favourite colour. You stared in shock at the bear. “I knew he was perfect for you.” 

Bucky offered you the bear, and you held him to your chest, tears falling down your cheeks. “And I brought some pain relief–I didn’t know what you preferred so I just bought the lot, and some pads, tampons, that sorta thing–and a hot water bottle, and some soup,” he gestured to the paper bag. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, staring at him with wide eyes. Bucky smiled. 

“How about a warm bath, and then we have a movie marathon?” You nodded and Bucky helped you to the shower.

Bucky had kept himself occupied by changing your sheets, being sure to pile the blankets back on, and you couldn’t ignore how your heart fluttered at the sight of him concentrating on making your safe space comfortable. When he looked up to find you in the doorway, he smiled. 

And dammit all, you fell in love. 

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[mrsjellymunson]

S.A.N.T.A. BABY

[A.KA. Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-Related Activities]

A Festive 5+1 Eddie Munson Fic

Summary: 5+1. Five times reader embarrasses herself in front of Eddie, and one time she doesn’t.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

WC: ~10.5k (oops)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, SMUT, NSFW. Strangers to sort-of-enemies to lovers. Drinking, smoking, Eddie and reader call each other nicknames, loads of embarrassing situations, swearing, suggestive language, implied birth control, description of and discussion about a sex toy, flagrant and unnecessary use of the number 69, reader has a tattoo but it’s not essential to the story so you can ignore it if you want, bondage fantasy involving fairy lights, lap riding/dry humping, Eddie has tattoos and intimate piercings, fingering, unprotected p-in-v (always wrap it irl!), aftercare, fluff, the Upside Down hasn’t happened. I imagine reader & Eddie to be mid-late 20s and it might be the 90s, but hopefully I left it ambiguous enough that you can choose. I tried to keep reader’s appearance neutral, though I’m still new at this and I may have missed things - let me know if you spot anything (likewise typos or missed tags, etc). The elf outfit in the pic is for costume illustration only and does not indicate reader’s ethnicity or appearance.

A/N: Written for @bettyfrommars’ & @allthingsjoeq’s festive prompt party (thank you, guys!); I decided to smoosh five prompts 6, 8, 12, 14 & 15 together to create… whateverthehellthismutantthingis 😆 It’s my first 5+1, and my first festive fic, please let me know how I did! 🎄 I’ve taken artistic license with the format - if I’ve understood it, it’s way too long for a standard 5+1, and I don’t think they usually have 4+k of unnecessary smut at the end (‘What do you mean, Kittie? Smut is always necessary!’). I couldn’t bring myself to cut it because I’m a deviant and to paraphrase the song, it’s my fic and I’ll add what I want to 😂 Enjoy! 🥂🍷🎁

Christmas was never your favourite time of year. You suppose that your early Christmasses were probably happy, but once your parents split and family politics came into play, the season just became less enjoyable all round. These days your mom and stepdad tended to use the extended break to visit your brother in California, and this year will be the third in a row that you’ve been left to your own devices. Not that you couldn’t go with them, but you just felt a little out of place and in the way, him with his scrapbook-perfect family and kids, you with your alternative interests and a dress sense that your stepdad once described as, “Far too much black for a family dinner. We’re not the Addams Family, you know”.

This year, though, you were optimistic. It’s your first year away at college in Indianapolis, and your roommate, Robin, who you get on outrageously well with, has invited you to spend the holidays not too far away in her home town, Hawkins.

Plus, Robin has taken it upon herself to, in her words, ‘“Christmas Carol the shit out of you”, after you’d told her about your disdain for the holiday season and that Santa stood for ‘Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-related Activities’. She’d declared that this year you’d have the “Best. Christmas. EVERRR!”, and she’s making good on it, despite the promise being made months ago when you were both soaked in tequila at the end of orientation week.

It’s going fairly well so far. You’ve met a couple of Robin’s friends, a nice girl called Nancy and Robin’s ex Vickie, and together you’ve had a shopping trip, a lunch out and a girls’ night in. You’re optimistic that the rest of her friends will be just as friendly and welcoming. Next on the ‘Best Christmas Ever’ agenda? Seeing a local band at a local bar…

“Honestly, they’re, like, really, really good!”

“Really, Robs? This band that your friends started in high school are so good that they’re still playing dive bars in their home town?”

The bar is dingy and grubby, but it’s packed, Robin insisting it’s because the band is great, but you suspect it has more to do with the cheap beer prices.

You’re not averse to live entertainment, you just prefer places with a bit more space. More ambience, less… sweat? Ambiguous stickiness??

Half a beer in, you make the excuse that you need some air, not admitting you’re actually hoping to find someone to bum a cigarette off outside, feeling your most recent attempt at quitting is already on seriously shaky ground.

There’s already a couple of guys around the side of the building when you exit the front door, one in a torn flannel and another, his back to you, in a heavier-looking jacket.

You recognise Flannel as the bartender, a lanky, but not unattractive, somewhat worried-looking guy with a grungy haircut and ripped Clash t-shirt, who’s just finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the floor. As he leaves to go back inside he offers a cheery half-salute to his smoking partner and a, “See you inside, dude.” You assume the other guy must be a regular, and from the subtle glimpses you get as he flicks his ash, he’s about halfway through his cigarette.

Whilst he’s not looking you sneakily take in the view (your excuse being that you are a tourist here, after all). He’s tall, dressed all in black, with broad shoulders draped in worn-in black leather, long dark curls falling about them. You can’t determine the exact colour in the poor lighting of the bar’s neon sign, but they look shiny and well cared for, rather than lank and grimy like so many of your college buddies seem to think is the fashionable way to do it these days (ugh).

Trailing your eyes down his back, you see the hem of his jacket half-obscures a black leather belt that’s just visible sitting on his slim hips. It’s studded with silver rivets and adorned with a variety of draping silver chains that jingle at the slightest movement.

Well-fitting, dark black jeans cover his legs, and a scruffy pair of heavy black combat boots complete the look. They're unlaced at the top and casually flare out, his jeans crumpling, effortlessly stylishly, in the tops.

The belt chains catch your attention again as he shifts from one foot to the other, making them swing, drawing your eyes to the seat of his jeans and showcasing a cute, tight, rounded pair of butto-oh! He’s turning around! Shit, shit, okay, be cool, and definitely don’t look like you were just checking out his ass…

He looks at you with surprise, he obviously hadn’t heard you come out. He’s taken slightly aback, but manages to greet you with a quick, “Hey.”

You reply, eloquently, “Hey.”

Smooth.

Leather Jacket gets out his lighter.

“You, uh, smokin’?”

“I was kinda hoping to bum one, actually. I’m supposed to be quitting, but you know how it is when you get around bars and booze.”

You shrug a little, suddenly feeling sheepish, and more than a little selfish when you realise your presumption.

“Oh yeah, I sure do. Think I’ve tried quitting about, what, five times now?”

He chuckles a little, shaking a stick out of the packet he retrieves from inside his jacket, offering it to you.

“You need a light?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.”

He leans in to spark his lighter, and you’re briefly engulfed by the scent of him. Old leather, hints of a musky, spicy cologne, whiskey, clean sweat, and, of course, cigarette smoke. It feels like a warm hug, but something else too, something more primal, enticing.

You notice his hands as he holds his lighter close to your face. They’re big, strong-looking and veined, his fingers adorned with chunky silver rings that glint and twinkle in the faint neon glow.

It all catches you off guard. You pull back quickly once your cigarette is lit, not ready to explore that kind of sensation right now.

He’s turned sideways to you again, leaning his back against the side wall of the bar. He smirks in your direction, a dimple popping in the cheek nearest to you, and you feel a little heat rise up your neck.

His gaze flows over your form, taking you in from top to bottom. Is he checking you out?

“I, uh, I like your boots.” He nods down towards your feet, flicking a little ash from his cigarette off to the side furthest from you.

You automatically glance down, like some kind of idiot who didn’t dress themselves less than an hour ago.

Sheesh, way to make an impression on the locals…

“Oh, thanks!”

You smile, genuinely pleased. You’re wearing your favourite pair, laced and buckled black leather New Rocks with a chunky, steel-coloured metal heel. You know the style doesn’t have universal appeal, which is of course part of the reason you love them, but it’s nice to have your taste appreciated by someone as cu- erm, as friendly as he is.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. You new in town or sumthin’?”

“Yeah, kinda passing through, I guess. I’m just here for the holidays, hookin’ up with a friend.”

He nods in acknowledgment, curls bouncing softly around his face.

You continue, “Apparently I’ve been promised the ‘best Christmas ever’, and they think they’re going to achieve that by bringing me to this divey bar to see some schoolfriend in a lame-ass metal cover band. I mean, god, no offence, but this town is hardly Seattle. I can’t imagine they’re gonna be Nirvana-quality, right?”

The guy snorts through his nose and then genuinely laughs. “Yeah, they probably are shit. Towns like this are full of wannabe rockstars straight outta high school, y’know?” You don’t notice how his lips purse as he suppresses a grin, as he continues, “Singers are the worst, always such assholes. Second only to guitarists, of course.”

You answer with an enthusiastic, “I know, right?!”, thinking back to the musicians you’ve dated since high school and how they were all convinced they were destined to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Steven Tyler. Thinking of a couple of guys in particular as you take a drag of your cigarette, as you exhale you mutter, “Christ, guitarists really are the pits.”

He snorts, smiling again, then drops his finished cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with the sole of his heavy boot. “At least with all their equipment and shit it makes them easy to spot.”

You gift him a smile and a small nod. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“I’m heading back inside. Maybe I’ll see you later?” He quirks an eyebrow at his last comment.

“Yeah, maybe.” As he moves to open the door you add, ”Hey, thanks for the smoke!”

He turns back to you, his distractingly broad grin now fully on display, half-shouting back as he moves through the doorway into the bustling interior, “No problem, all you have to do is ask. I’ll see you later, Boots!”

You finish your smoke and get inside just in time to get to your seat, a tall stool opposite Robin around a high table, your back to the stage, as the band start up.

There’s a few complicated beats from the drums as the guy behind them warms up, and the bass and rhythm guitars thrum a few notes, garnering whistles and cheers from the crowd.

You wait for the cliché of the singer coming up to the mic and introducing the band, but what you actually hear is a low, self-assured, somewhat recognisable voice, that’s both commanding and sultry, that drawls, “You know who we are.”

Suddenly there’s a burst of impressive guitar work and drums, and the crowd erupts as the room is saturated with the opening chords to Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’.

You’re impressed, and intrigued. This isn’t the ‘dodgy 80’s covers schoolkid band’ you were expecting. These guys sound… accomplished.

You turn on your stool, and notice a subtly familiar form at the mic. Less bulky as he’s no longer wearing the leather jacket, a ripped band tee now showing off his pale arms and clavicles, and black ink that you can’t make out adorning solid biceps and veined forearms. Guitar in hand, confident, brash, cute. Chains dangling from a studded belt, silver rings glinting, hair flying as he flicks his head, commanding the stage, readying himself to sing the first lines…

Oh shit…

The band’s cover of ‘War Pigs’ is faster than the original, and they give it their own twist, making it heavier and grittier. After the (irritatingly brilliant) guitar solo Leather Jacket Band Guy even throws in a few lines from Deck The Halls, the audience going wild, and joining in enthusiastically when the ‘Oh Lord yeah’ is replaced with a ‘Fa-la-la’.

The rest of their set is a mix of covers and originals, all in a similar, heavy style, and as they finish to a rapturous throng you realise, flustered, that you couldn’t tear your eyes from the stage the whole time. Robin totally notices. You even let her get in a cheery, “Told ya so!”, as you reluctantly admit they weren’t completely terrible.

You spot the frontman (singer and guitarist, cue internal facepalm) jump down off the low stage, and you feel a little uneasy as you see him start heading in your direction.

You’re at peak embarrassment and can’t bear the thought of having to face him after what you said outside. You hadn’t even heard them play and you dissed the fuck out of them, him specifically. What makes it worse is that they were actually really good. The last thing you need is to have that thrown back in your face, in front of Robin, by their cocky lead guy.

Suddenly you want Spontaneous Human Combustion to be a real thing, turn you to ash so your only presence would be scuffed up on those heavy, unlaced combat boots, going unnoticed and carried out on everyone’s soles into the chilly night. But science and physics are apparently not willing to defy themselves for you this evening. Bastards.

Quickly, you get off your stool, mumbling something about needing the bathroom, and head off in a random direction, in your haste to escape not even asking where it is.

You chance a glance over one shoulder. Oh god, he’s heading straight for you…

As you stumble about in the crowd, you notice a free seat next to a guy at the bar. You hardly register that his coiffed hair and polo shirt don’t quite fit the vibe of the place, so desperate are you to build an alternative narrative that doesn’t involve the guy whose band you just dissed coming to talk to you. You’d said you were visiting a friend, he’s not to know it wasn’t a boyfriend, right? If he sees you with someone he’ll back off and leave you alone, right?? Surely he wouldn’t confront you with a potential Defending Your Honour™️ fight on the table. Right???

So, that’s the plan.

A really good, foolproof one? Um, no. But Band Guy is moving through the crowd, and you’ve gotta do something, fast.

You reach the bar.

“Hey, could you do me a favour real quick? A creepy guy’s been hitting on me, and I need to give him the message that I’m not interested. If I buy you a drink, will you act like you’re my boyfriend for, like, the next 30 seconds?”

He turns to you, and you notice his features. Golden skin, chiselled jaw, stunning hazel eyes, hair to rival the hottest supermodels’, a scattering of moles that look like constellations. Goddamn, he’s pretty. What is it with this bar? Is everyone inside it cute? Why have you never been to Hawkins before??

You give him a pleading look, and tentatively hold out one hand towards where his is resting on his thigh, hoping he’ll take it.

“Well, for a sweet thing like you, how could I say no to that tempting double offer?”

He smiles then, full and beaming, and you almost slip off your stool. A warm palm comes to cup over yours, and you manage to blurt out an order to the barman, saying, “Two of whatever he’s having.”

Just then, Band Guy reaches you. You do your best to swoon at Polo Shirt as your drinks get delivered, lifting yours and clinking it against his with a, “Hey, sweetheart, thanks for bringing me here”.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here with someone tonight.”

“Yeah, this is the friend I was telling you about. We’re spending the holidays together. Isn’t that right, sweets?”

Band Guy purses his lips, you hope in consternation, but it’s whatever, you just want him to leave you alone to stew in your mortification.

He backs up half a step, saying, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Success!

Just as you think your devious plan has worked, Band Guy turns to Polo Shirt, slaps his open palm against his shoulder a couple of times, and saunters off, with a, “Nice to see you, Steve-o. Just checkin’ you're wanting a lift back in the van with the guys, like usual?”

Oh. Oh god. They know each other?!

He turns away, smirking back briefly in your direction to fling a casual, “I’ll see you around, Boots”, before continuing his path to the other end of the bar. You see him greet Flannel with a high five followed by a bro handshake, the latter making exaggerated air guitar movements and clearly congratulating him on a great performance.

If cringing caused bodily trauma you’d be in the ER by now, most likely on life support. What are the chances of embarrassing yourself all to hell in front of a cute guy you’ve only just met, twice in one night?

Also, wait, you totally didn’t just admit that you find him cute. Nope. No siree. Nah. Niet. Definitely not.

Stupid Robin convinced you to take this stupid job in the stupid mall and now you’re stuck here smiling this stupid smile at all the stupid local kids in this stupid elf costume.

Stupid striped tights, stupid short skirt, stupid tight green tunic, stupid fluffy collar.

And yeah, okay, stupid self-induced hangover from stupid drinks last night thanks to stupid Robin’s stupid friends. Actually, they were all really nice, especially ‘Steve-o’ and the barman, Jonathon, neither of whom mentioned your embarrassing faux pas with Band Guy, which makes them total heroes in your book. Plus, Band Guy mercifully gave you a wide berth for the rest of the night by doing Band Stuff™️, so that was a win too.

At least the dress code for this gig stated ‘black footwear’, so you could wear your own boots. You’d never admit it out loud, but you think the combination of the red and white striped tights with your chunky, alternative boots actually looks kinda cute. It’s just as well, because you’d packed light (you and Robin joking that so long as you had your ”Pills and panties” you were good to go), and hadn’t brought any alternatives.

You’ve been at this for a couple of days already, beaming artificially at the kids as you try to corral them into some semblance of an organised line, and handing out stickers and treat bags for the ones who’ve seen Santa, putting your best singsong voice on as you ask for what feels like the millionth time, “So, what did you ask Santa for?”, and, “Have you been good this year?”

Your face has begun to ache with the effort of all the smiling, although the cheery mall Santa (a big, friendly guy called John? Jack?) takes up most of the slack, with a voice deep and gravelly enough to control even the worst-behaved little shits. You hope his day job uses it, it would be a shame for a voice like that to go to waste. He should probably be in sports, or acting, or law enforcement or something.

You can’t deny the money is coming in handy though. It’s reliably supporting your holiday booze habit, and you’ve even treated yourself to a couple of Christmas treats, some silver skull jewellery from a surprisingly well-stocked accessory shop, and something more, um, personal from the ‘specialist interest’ shop you’d found hidden away at the back of the mall’s upper level. The nice lady who worked there, Karen, even kindly offered to drop off your purchase at your staff locker later today.

You’re on the later shift, so Santa’s already here, and as you make your way out to the grotto area (which is essentially just a few old stage props surrounded by a few giant polystyrene candy canes; you surmise this might be one of the first years they’ve done this) you’re greeted by a predictable, “Ho ho ho!”. But today it’s a different voice than usual. Still deep, still booming, but not the one you’re used to.

As you round the glittery candy cane on the corner, the deep baritone gives way to a much higher, cheekier pitch.

“Ho, ho- hoooooly shiiit, I’d recognise those boots anywhere!”

Oh no… It can’t be…

“Heeey, Boots! I didn’t know you’d be one of my little helpers today!”

Even behind the fake beard you can see the smugness spread across his face.

You stop in your tracks, hands coming up to your face in a vain attempt to shield your embarrassed self from the impending, and, you’ll admit, completely justified, teasing.

Realising you can’t hide from it, you huff out a breath and amble over to him. He looks way too comfortable sitting on that ornate throne, like he’s used to such a position, somehow…

As you move closer you see that even beneath the tacky acrylic costuming, he still looks cute (damn him). He’s foregone the white wig and opted to display his own locks, chestnut curls cascading over his shoulders, and the white faux fur of his hat and beard create a subtle frame around his eyes. You observe their colour properly for the first time, and even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the mall they look like swirling pools of liquid cacao, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything quite like them before. They’re fixed on you as you walk to him.

You plonk down on a fabric-covered hay bale next to the throne. There’s no line of kids waiting as yet, and you’re relieved you can get this next part done without too much of an audience. Deep breath, pull off the bandaid, or whatever that stupid phrase is.

“Listen, about last night. I’m really sorry. I not only stole your smokes but also dissed your band before I’d even heard you, and that wasn’t cool. And that thing with Steve at the bar? God, you must think I’m such a loser. And, I know you probably couldn’t give two pebbly shits about what I think right now, but you guys are actually really good.”

He turns to you, looking down his nose and through his lashes at you.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sweets. I did kinda bait you into that first part. And at the bar? That was… creative. I actually thought it was pretty funny.” Smirking, nodding and turning his face to the front again, he continues, “And for the record, we do play other places, not just this so-not-Seattle town.”

You risk a glance at him. The Santa suit is obviously too big for him, the collar wide enough to show off his pale throat for a moment before he turns back to you and the comically-fluffy beard obscures it again. You can see the outline of his taut, muscular thighs under the loose faux velvet of his pants, and his boots (those boots) are worn just like they were last night, unlaced at the top, casually stylish, the red fabric pooling around the calf and ankle. And to finish it off, there’s what appears to be a large throw cushion stuffed down his front.

It turns out he’s covering for (Jim!) Hopper, who’s apparently the local police chief (nailed it) and has been called out to check on some weird occurrences at an old research facility on the other side of town.

Band Guy Santa continues, sarcastically, “Pfft. Providing the town of Hawkins with security and safety instead of performing the frankly, essential, public service of dicking about in a Santa suit. Inconsiderate, right?”

“Yeah, totally”, you giggle.

“The organisers heard from Hop that I was somewhat… theatrical, so they asked me to fill in.”

You remember how theatrical he looked whilst on stage, and you feel your throat heat up, hoping he won’t notice you subtly pulling at your collar with a finger, or see the perspiration appearing on your décolletage.

“So, you may wreak your revenge now, sweetheart. I’m not exactly in a position to defend my sartorial choices right now, am I?”, he says as he gestures to himself, sweeping a palm up and down his garb. “Gimme your worst.”

You’d feel pretty bad if you laid into him now, not only considering your own current garb but especially with what you’d said last night outside the bar. However, he is giving you an opportunity to even the score for his manipulation, and it would be a shame not to take it. You decide upon a combination of cheekiness and diplomacy. (And not flirty. Definitely not flirty.)

“I dunno, that beard covers most of your face, which obviously does you some favours. But don’t do yourself down, you look… good in red.”

He swallows as you stand to move away from him, and you hardly realise that you’ve rendered him speechless, as you joke, poking at the obvious cushion by his middle,

“Although, I’m totally not buying this padding, you know,”

Suddenly a party of schoolchildren appears from nowhere, and before they get between you and you get too far away to hear, he stammers out, “Uh, I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You half-yell your own name back, adding with a smile,

“It’s nice to meet you. Have fun today, Santa.”

It’s late afternoon and Santa Eddie is on his regulation break. You’re doing your best to herd the over-sugared, post-school crowd into some kind of order, when Mrs Santa (a lovely lady called Claudia) calls your name and says you can go on your break now too, if you want, and to please tell Santa that he needs to get back here and start doling out Christmas wishes.

You jump at the chance for even just a few minutes away from the diminutive hoards (though you could listen to Erica, one kid you do like, diss commercialism and the ethics of lying to kids en masse all afternoon), and make your way to the locker room.

Eddie’s still there, sitting on the central bench, beard pulled down under his chin, and he appears to be holding a package in his hands, though from the look on his face you don’t think it was one he was expecting. As you move closer and peer into the box, you spy the contents, and a bright red, glittery shape becomes visible.

Oh god, no. No-no-noooo…

It’s the order you placed from the shop at the back of the mall, but Karen’s obviously dropped it off next to the wrong locker - Eddie’s is number 69 and yours is 96.

It’s a dildo (of course it is). A Christmas-themed, flexible, long, thick, glittery, red dildo, with a gold lamé ribbon tied artfully around the base.

Eddie’s face is a picture of surprise as he turns to look up at you, eyes and mouth wide and eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. He’s holding the packaging, your name visible on the wrapping, nixing any hope you’d had of feigning innocence and pretending you knew nothing about it.

“Uh, I think this is yours. I’m so sorry. I-it was left by my locker and I opened it assuming it was for me, and then I saw your name on it, but by then it was too late…”

He sees you slump down into the bench a few feet away from him, face in your hands. You don’t know him well, but you decide to let him get whatever he wants to say out of his system rather than potentially make everything worse by trying to get him to shut the hell up.

His tone is mocking, but not exactly mean, as he continues,

“It’s a pretty one, really. Y’know, festive. I admire your choice of aesthetics and commitment to the season.

But you know, Boots, if you wanted to feel special inside this Christmas, all you had to do was ask.

Wait, do you also have an Easter-themed one? Is it a rabbit?”

He’s turned to face you now, far too pleased with himself for that final quip. Arrogant bastard.

The tears come in a wave, and you fold in on yourself, trying to hide your face even more. The heat in your cheeks feels about the same temperature as the colour of that fucking dildo.

“Hey, hey. I was only kidding.” He scootches closer to you on the bench. ”Look, there’s nothing wrong with it. Everyone deserves pleasure, it’s healthy. And I get it, Boots, it can be hard for girls to find a guy who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing. And, maybe you don’t even want or need a guy, you just want some special time by yourself, right?”

There’s a short pause, like he could be considering his next choice of words.

“And anyway, I actually think it’s kinda hot…”

This surprises you. You’ve never met any guy who didn’t take the presence of your toy collection as a personal insult.

You risk a glance in his direction, hoping your wet and stinging eyes don’t look as red as they feel. “You really think so?”

“Oh yeah”, he responds, crossing his legs as subtly as he can, shielding his lap. “The one you chose? It’s… sophisticated. The glitter gives it a real nice touch. And,” he drops his voice a little, continuing in an almost-whisper, “I’d love to see what you do with it.” He clears his throat and looks away, finding a convenient patch of plain wall to focus his gaze upon.

Confused, upset, and unable to fathom exactly what’s going on (is this just banter? Or is he flirting? Wait, does he like you??) you grab the box from him and move to stuff it in your locker. Trying to hide the crack in your voice, you call over your shoulder, “Claudia says your break’s over and to get your jolly ass back out there, pronto.”

Oh shit… shitshitSHIT…

Stupid collar, stupid faux fur, stupid cheap zips! Goddammit!

You’re at your locker - the one that should’ve secretly contained your special Xmas gift to yourself - trying to get out of your stupid elf costume, but the zip won’t budge. The top of it is enmeshed amongst the stupid faux fur of your collar, and your frustrated, unsighted and fumbling ministrations appear to be making it worse.

You need help. An empathic soul to come to your aid and diligently untangle you from this costuming hell. But there’s only one other person here, and, even though your last encounter ended better than it could have, he’s still the last person you want to see right now.

Why tonight? Of all nights? How could this happen on the one night where the literal only person left in the entire fucking building is him??

You can only assume you’re on the real Santa’s shit list. Were you really that naughty this year?

Your brain rewards you with a brief, but telling, synopsis of your year so far: smoking blunts behind the library with Robin during study breaks, skinny dipping in a freezing lake on a dare, all that tequila, that brief foray in the back of a Camaro with that guy (Bobby? Billy?). Okay, you were no saint, but this? Come on…

Dejectedly, you drop your chin to your chest and let out a frustrated huff.

Looking miserable, and literally dragging your heels, you shuffle back out to the grotto, steeling yourself for whatever mocking banter Eddie will subject you to this time.

He’s leisurely rearranging the grotto area, and fiddling with the fairy lights behind.

“Hey, Boots. What’re you still doing here?”

Still not looking up, and flicking your eyes everywhere but in his direction, you mumble,

“I, uh, I need your help.”

“What is it? C’mon, you can tell me. We’re quite intimately acquainted now, wouldn’t you say?“

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you want to slap it right off his face. Your response comes out in a rush.

“MyzipisstuckandIcan’tgetoutofthisfuckingcostume, okay?”

“Well, honestly, if you want me to undress you, all you have to do is ask…”

There’s annoyance in your voice as you spit out, “For fuck’s sake Eddie, are you gonna help me or not?”

“Of course, Boots, I’m just messin’ with ya.” His voice drops to an almost-rumble as he instructs, “Turn around for me, yeah?”

His voice is commanding, yet soft and velvety. Parts of your brain turn to marshmallow, and you consider that you’d do almost anything he asked, if he asked you like that.

You do as he requests, your back facing him. You tilt your head down slightly, allowing him better access to the top of the zip, inadvertently also exposing the back of your neck.

He exhales (is it a bit shaky?), and you feel the heat of his breath on your nape, the sensation raising goosebumps along your spine and worrying your legs a little. It’s all you can do to not drop to your knees right there and then. You let out a tiny gasp and try to cover it with a deep swallow.

Eddie works gently on the collar of your garment, fiddling with the fur and disentangling what he can. As he works you continue to feel his breath on your neck, and you wonder if he has any idea what it’s doing to you.

Seemingly satisfied he won’t make it any worse than it already is, Eddie grasps the tag with his fingertips and places the palm of his other hand on your shoulder blade, the heat of it radiating through you so intensely that you have to scrunch your eyes closed and try to ground yourself.

With a quiet, “You ready?”, Eddie begins to slowly lower the zip.

It dislodges under his delicate touch, and although the zip is now completely free-moving he continues to pull it downwards ever so slowly. You feel another frisson of excitement, and even though you could at this stage probably quite easily take over and get out of the garment yourself, you don’t move away.

As the opening reaches your shoulder blades, you feel something else. It’s featherlight, barely there, but you think you can feel the knuckle of one of Eddie’s bent fingers brushing the skin of your back as he pulls the zipper slowly downwards.

Part of you thinks you should be freaked, after all an almost-complete stranger is touching you without your consent, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird. It feels… nice. Safe. Right.

The lower the zip goes the more of Eddie’s breath you feel on your back, and as the sides separate the edges of the colourful tattoo on your shoulder blade become visible.

Eddie's breath stutters at the sight, and as his knuckle passes over your bra strap and connects again with your lower spine you abruptly shake yourself out of your reverie.

Clutching the front of your tunic to your body, you move quickly away from him, stumbling back towards the locker room and mumbling, “I’ll take it from here. Thanks Eddie, you’re a lifesaver.”

Plonking yourself down on the bench in front of your open locker, you take a few deep breaths, trying to centre yourself before you get changed and wondering how on earth you’re going to be able to face him again tomorrow, the (yes, you’ll admit it now) hottest Santa you’ve ever seen...

Back in your own clothes (black, wide-gauge fishnets, an old tee from a punk band that no longer exists, and a flared black skirt - much better) you’re about to scurry out with your head down when you hear muffled grunts and groans from the main floor. What on earth is going on out there?

You amble back out to the grotto area, trying to appear nonchalant and like this is your usual route out of the building.

You see Eddie’s combat boots sticking out from behind a pile of fake snowballs. They seem to be twitching.

You move closer until you can see his entire form. He’s lying on his back, immobile, completely tangled in fairy lights. You can’t help but start to giggle, not least because for the first time since meeting him it’s he who’s the one in a compromising position.

He’s struggling, likely making it worse, and he starts as he sees you, barking out, “Oh god, Boots, you scared me! Well, laugh it up, fuzzball, I guess it’s your turn to rag on me now.”

“What on earth happened? Are you hurt?”

“I said I’d help rearrange these lights, so I was up that ladder, moving them around, when the rung gave way. The lights were the only thing I could grab for when I span, fell, and, well, here we are!”

He gives you a broad but sarcastic grin, realising the absurdity of his predicament, trying to spread out his palms in a jazz hands kind of illustration but only managing to do it with one, the other trapped at his belt line by a string of dazzling pink lights.

“Um, you need a hand?”

“Uh, yes please.”

You take a moment to appraise the situation. You see the broken ladder, the tangled piles of lights, scuffed-up fake grass and unruly piles of snowballs.

As for Eddie, he seems unharmed, if a little bruised in the ego (and, perhaps, the elbows). He’s still wearing the Santa suit. Well, most of it. He still has on the hat for some reason, and the trousers, but he’s discarded the beard and jacket, presumably for reasons of temperature regulation or ease of movement, and his ‘belly’ cushion is nowhere to be seen.

And his top half? Well, his top half is now adorned only in a tight, white tank top.

You swallow as you take in his torso. He looked good on stage that night at the bar, but you never really got to see him this close up. Or this well lit.

His skin is almost as pale as the fake snow that litters the area, but there’s a creaminess to it that just makes him look, well, edible is the only word you can think of. Apart from ’lickable’. Yep, that would work too…

He’s solid, well defined, but he’s not stocky. You imagine that years of carrying amps and band equipment around has toned his muscles rather than bulked them.

And the tattoos… Oh. God.

You’ve always had a thing for people with alternative tastes, but this guy takes the cake. Swirling black ink in a variety of designs and styles covers his pecs and biceps, with smaller but no less elaborate designs adorning his forearms.

You notice a subtle glint under the colourful strings of lights that enwrap him, and spot that one of his nipples is pierced, the ring of metal just barely visible through the taut fabric.

Your eyes drift to his hands (those same hands that entranced you that first night), and although there’s no rings tonight (you guess ‘Badass Santa’ wasn’t the version on the mall’s wish list) his hands are no less attractive, still strong-looking and veiny, and you spot a number of small finger tats that you hadn’t been aware of before.

His position and the fact that he’s still struggling mean his abs are tensed, with his forearms are in front of him, making them, and his shoulders, really pop.

Jeezus.

Your thighs clench and you feel a heat bloom in your core.

He notices you staring, and for a moment seems to revel in it, but eventually breaks you out of your trance, asking, “You gonna help me get out of this, or what?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, um, lemme just…”

You decide to start at his feet, reasoning that’s where the tangles are the least bad, and at least if his feet are free he’ll be able to sit up.

That decision has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’d like to see him sitting, bound, tied up for you, naked…

Shit. Fuck. Concentrate…

Eventually you free him from the majority of his confines, your fingertips and the backs of your hands brushing his skin and the fabric of his clothes occasionally. As he’s able to sit up, his hair tickles you as you work, his scent invades you all over again, and the two of you share glances and timid little chuckles as you move around him, both aware that you’re closer than you’ve been before.

Eventually he’s completely freed, and as he stands and steps out of the final loop of lights he flops exhaustedly backwards into his golden throne, eyeing the pile of entangled lights and running a hand over his face, mumbling, “Shit, there’s no hope for them tonight. I’ll deal with it all in the morning.”

You stand to the side of the throne, wanting to check he’s ok, and in a bold move that you weren’t expecting he lifts one arm and takes the tips of your first two fingers in his, gently raising your hand in a silent instruction to come closer.

Mirroring your earlier comment, he says, “Thanks, Boots. You’re a real lifesaver”, adding, with a hand against his forehead, “I would’ve been here all night, could’ve starved to death. They'd've found my mummified remains in the morning.”

You find yourself stepping towards him, and with your free hand try to give his pec a playful slap, murmuring, “You’re so dramatic. No, wait, theatrical!”

The slap fails though, as he rapidly brings his other hand up to the back of yours, trapping your palm against his chest. You can feel the heat of his skin, the slight sheen of sweat just noticeable as your fingertips breach the low neckline of his top, the heavy thud of his heartbeat.

You don’t realise how close you’ve become, and you gasp as your knees touch the side of his. He gently grabs the hand that’s on his chest and pulls it to his side, and to stop yourself from toppling forwards you have to step around him, ending up standing astride his legs.

Your eyes lock, and something changes. For a long moment neither of you move, and you feel your breathing rate speed up.

Not breaking eye contact, Eddie slowly moves your arm up to his shoulder, and you find yourself climbing onto the throne with him, straddling his thighs.

He breaks out that low, rumbling voice again, as he murmurs,

“That’s it, Boots, come sit on Santa’s lap.”

As you lower down onto him, you feel the heat of his thighs through your thin tights, and then the contrast of the chill of your metal-coated heels against the backs of yours.

You also feel something bloom in the pit of your stomach. And further down. A warmth, heat, need.

Eddie moves one hand to hold the back of your waist, pulling you gently, moving you further up his lap towards him.

You feel the unmistakable bulge of his arousal between your thighs, and as he moves you closer you gasp as you feel it nudge your mound.

You look at each other for another long moment, aware that this is very new territory. His eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, as he asks, quietly, “Is- is this okay?”

It’s all too much and simultaneously not enough. You definitely weren’t expecting any of this, but at the same time you find yourself desperately nodding, needing more of him, of Eddie.

You answer by slowly rolling your hips lightly against him, your lips parting slightly.

The few layers of fabric between you aren’t enough to dull the sensation of his cock pushing against your centre, and you feel it gradually pressing between your folds, your growing slick making the movements easier.

Suddenly, his bulge nudges your sensitive bud.

You gasp again at the sensation, making Eddie exhale a long low, warm breath over your torso, before he speaks again.

“Boots, can I kiss you?”

You take a breath, considering how this could all go. You could walk away now (albeit with shaky legs and damp thighs) and leave any possible awkwardness or complicated entanglement in favour of a simple, uncomplicated holiday with your friend.

But then you look into his eyes again, as his hips gently buck and nudge you once more, and your decision is made.

Breathing out, you reply,

“Fuck yeah, Santa.”

Wearing a soft, sly smile, he gently brings one hand to the back of your head, bringing you to him as he moves forwards, chocolate eyes roaming your face, scanning your eyes and lips.

Noses bumping and lips millimetres apart, he pauses for a moment before closing the gap, pressing his soft, plush lips to yours. They feel divine, soft and velvety, and this close you can smell everything him now, with the subtle addition of something faintly minty.

You kiss him back, and then you both press forward harder, parting your lips at the same moment, the tips of your tongues touching and dancing before sliding past each other and deepening the kiss, your teeth bumping gently and hot breaths mingling.

It’s wet, hot and needy, your hands grasping his shoulders, and his arms pulling you closer to him.

The rolling of your hips gradually becomes stronger and more forceful, and he bucks harder up into you. You need more. Breaking the kiss for air, you take a couple of lungfuls, toying with the drawstring on his red pants before asking, bold and more than a little cheeky,

“How are you feeling? Still entangled? Do you need a hand getting out of these, too?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m feeling very… entrapped, kinda claustrophobic. Might be in shock from such a traumatic experience. I might need to loosen my clothing a bit, y’know, for medical reasons.”

You give him a smirk, and untie the cords. Raising up on your knees slightly, you slide your thumbs hands into the waistband of those and his fitted, black boxers (fuck, is there anything about this guy that isn’t sexy?). He quickly takes the hint, lifting his hips off of the throne and allowing you to move his garments down to his thighs.

As you work his member gets caught on the elastic of his boxers, and as it releases from the fabric it springs back onto his abdomen with an audible slap. You can’t help but look, and you’re not disappointed. It’s pleasantly, but not overly, big, thick and veiny, curved slightly and with a large flared head. The tip is shiny and pinky-red, and as you stare it twitches away from his body and a tiny bead of precum leaks from the tip. You’re surprised, but also delighted, to spot a shining pair of steel balls decorating a frenum piercing, and that there’s a few pretty dot and line work tattoos near the base.

It’s beautiful. You want to tell him so, but he grabs you and pulls you in for another deep, passionate kiss, his length trapped between your bodies, hot and pulsing.

You melt into the kiss, tongues slipping and sliding, lips rubbing, noses smooshed against each other and enjoying it for as long as you can both do without air.

Needing another deep inhale, and also wanting to get your hands on his delightful cock, you sit up again, slipping one hand between you and grasping at his length. Eddie hisses, then moans,

“Oh, Boots, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You enjoy the feeling of him in your hand for a few moments, relishing the heat and hardness, before you position the palm of your hand behind his cock and push your centre towards him again, trapping his length between your hand and belly.

More thrusts of his hips moves him between you, your slightly adjusted position now pressing him firmly between your clothed folds, his cock dragging the fabric across your clit. You can’t help but let out a high whine, and you feel his cock twitch again.

“Too much fabric. Wanna feel you.”

His voice is gruff, desperate, wanting.

You lean back a little, resting one hand on the arm of the throne, keeping your other hand wrapped around his cock. You’re not sure you ever want to let it go.

His hands move from your ass to your thighs, running over them and squeezing. When he reaches the part exposed by your lifted skirt he growls, feeling the skin of your hips and belly through the mesh of your tights.

Suddenly, his chin dips and he gives you an almost evil grin. His eyes remain connected with yours as the tip of his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as he pushes some of his fingertips through the holes, grabs tightly and pulls.

You freeze as the sound of snapping fabric echoes around the grotto, cool air now gracing your belly and inner thighs. You gasp, not only at his actions but because you packed light and don’t have any other tights with you. But as Eddie’s thumbs trace up to the crease of your thighs, dangerously close to your heated core, all thoughts of packing and capsule wardrobes are erased. You want, no, need him to touch you.

With a smirk, you say, “Please touch me, Santa. I promise I’ve been such a good girl this year.”

His jaw goes slack and he looks at you in awe. You notice how black his eyes have become, the beautiful chocolate hues all but obscured.

He flicks his gaze to your core, black satin panties with lace edging fully on display. He runs one thumb pad up your very centre, feeling the smooth, silky fabric, your heat, the dampness that’s already apparent.

“Christ, baby, is this all for me?”

“All for you, Santa. I’m pretty sure you’ve been a bad boy this year, but you deserve a treat anyway.”

His eyes flick to yours again briefly, his lips curling into a lascivious smirk, before returning to the beautiful display between your legs. He hooks his thumb around one lace edge and, much more gently than he handled your tights, moves the soaked satin to one side.

With a tenderness and reverence that you’ve never experienced before, Eddie parts your folds with his thumb and runs it delicately from your wet lips all the way up to your clit. His eyes are fixed there, jaw slack, and you genuinely think he might drool.

As he connects with your sensitive bud you keen above him, eyes closing and head rolling back.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

You come back to look at him, and manage to breathe out, with a lilting giggle, “Fuck, yes.”

He moves his thumb in a small circle, and your mouth falls open in an O, your brows furrowing slightly.

“You want me to keep going, Boots? All you have to do is ask…”

You’re lost, gone, away in space, and you don’t have the capacity to chide him for his cheek. All you can manage is a breathy, “Please Eddie, please keep going.”

His thumb speeds up slightly and he gradually and gently increases the pressure, and you can feel the coil in your belly tightening already. Fuck, he’s good at this.

Your hand remains clamped around his dick, squeezing it occasionally, his hips rutting up into your fist at a leisurely pace as he watches you fall apart on his lap.

He moves his other hand from where it’s been resting on your hip, and, widening his thighs slightly to create space beneath you, brings the tips of his index and middle fingers to your hole. You’re sopping wet and swollen, lips almost sucking him in just from the slightest touch.

He looks to your face again as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You manage a rapid, shallow head nod and a, “M-hm”, and he slowly plunges two fingers into you, scissoring them and generating a low groan from you, which in turn causes a harsher snap from his hips.

“Jeezus, Boots, you make the most delicious sounds, wish I could record them, listen to them on a loop. Fucking hell.”

“Maybe you can, you’re a musician after a-all…”

That’s the last thing you can say for a while, the combination of Eddie’s smirk, his talented fingers pumping in and out of you, his glorious thumb movements, the feel of his cock in your hand and his hips bucking beneath you all conspire to bring you to your peak.

You grip the arm of the throne hard, nails denting the pile on the velvety fabric. Your eyes close and your vision goes black before becoming a thousand tiny fairy lights, a firework igniting in your core and spreading throughout your body in the most delicious waves as you spasm around Eddie’s fingers.

You don’t notice you’ve been groaning until your senses return, and you feel a slight roughness in your throat. Eddie continues his movements, though slower, and helps you ride out your aftershocks as you pant on his lap.

Only when you start to twitch in discomfort does he remove his thumb from your clit. He slowly pulls his fingers from inside you, and to your surprise brings them up to his lips, pushing them fully inside his mouth and sucking greedily, closing his eyes and humming at your taste. Popping them out with a wet smack, he says,

“My god, Boots. You taste better than sugar cookies and cotton candy combined.”

Your arms feel suddenly weak, and you flop forwards, forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. You feel his warm, broad palm on your back, rubbing gently, soothing you.

“Y’okay there, sweetheart?”

You manage a little squeak, and mumble a tiny, “Mmph, yeaaah…”, as he chuckles lightly.

After a few moments you sit up a little, gazing into Eddie’s blown chocolate eyes through an endorphin haze, and you notice your cheeks are tense, in what must be, given Eddie’s somewhat lovesick expression, a goofy smile.

You realise you’re still holding on to his dick, and give it an experimental squeeze, to test whether your muscles are responding to signals from your brain (yeah, that’s definitely the only reason…). Eddie’s hips buck up, and you sneak a look down to see more precum leaking from the tip. You gather some with your thumb, circling it gently over his slit.

Eddie inhales with a hiss. His strong arm around your back goes to pull you in for another kiss, as his other hand reaches up to the hat atop his head, pulling it off and discarding it amongst the tangled fairy lights.

You move towards him for a deep kiss, releasing the grip on his member and running your hands around his (surprisingly muscular and delicious) neck and into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling your fingers into the curls and tugging gently, earning you another moan.

Shifting your hips along his thighs, you press your soaking folds against Eddie’s turgid cock, and the combination of sensations causes Eddie to break the kiss and emit a loud, low groan. His arms tighten around your torso and he moves his warm mouth down your jaw and neck with wet kisses, then lightly bites the top of your shoulder.

You sigh, knowing what you want.

“You ever fuck an elf, Santa?”

Eddies still mouthing at your collarbone as he mutters into your warm skin,

“Goddammit, you’re incredible.”

You move backwards slightly and Eddie takes the opportunity to reach behind him, grabbing the back of his tank top and dragging it off, dropping it carelessly to the side of the throne to join the lights and his hat.

Fuck, his chest is glorious too.

Bringing a little of your lower lip between your teeth, you run your palms down his solid torso. You want the opportunity to play with that nipple ring and examine each and every one of his tattoos, but right now there are more pressing desires on your mind.

He lets out a shaky breath as you brush his abs with your fingertips, shift your position and line up his swollen head with your eagerly awaiting hole.

“You sure about this, Boots?”

You look up at him, at his blown dark eyes and pink, kiss-bitten, shiny lips, and quirk an eyebrow as you run your fingers into his hair and murmur, “Oh yeah, Eddie. I want you to make me feel… special inside.”

He gasps as you angle your hips and sink down, pushing the head of his cock inside of you, gradually taking his thick length.

He kisses your lips once more, humming, as you acclimatise to his girth, then grins lasciviously as he thrusts his hips upwards, filling you completely. You’re close enough that the moans you let out mingle together and your breaths become shared, eyes locked and mouths agape.

You roll your hips, sliding Eddie’s length in and out of you at a gentle pace. You can feel every ridge and vein as he enters and pulls out, and you’re sure you can feel his frenum piercing dragging against your walls.

You can tell he’s holding back, consciously stilling his own hips and allowing you to set the pace. But this doesn’t last long.

Voice gravelly and ragged with lust, Eddie mumbles,

“Shit, baby, I gotta move. I wanna fuck you so bad, Boots. You gonna let me fuck you?”

Mouth close to his ear, you breathe out a small, “Please”.

It’s all he needs.

Grabbing your ass and squeezing hard but not harshly, Eddie pulls you down onto him as he thrusts up from below. His pace is ruthless as he lifts and drops you, matching his rhythm as he grunts and mumbles incoherent curses. You can’t make out much, but you do hear,

“Fuck, baby, you feel so divine, taking me so well, Jeezus Christ.”

Fuck, he feels amazing.

You remember his cock tattoos, and imagine how they might look, shiny and covered with your slick, disappearing in and out of your glossy lips.

This image, combined with a particularly hard snap of Eddie’s hips causing him to angle slightly differently and start to nudge that special place inside of you, causes you to let out a loud gasp, and your mouth drops open as you try to form a sentence.

“Oh fuck Eddie, I’m- I’m…”

“You gonna cum all over Santa, pretty girl?”

He continues thrusting at that delicious angle and you feel your legs start to tremble.

“Fuck! Y-yes, ye-ess!”

Heat building in your core, you just about hear Eddie mumbling,

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, I’m not gonna last much longer. Where do you want…?”

Before he can even finish you’re blurting out,

“Inside me Eddie, please.”

You bounce on Eddie’s lap as his thrusts become deeper, faster, and then harsher and less rhythmic. You grind down onto his pelvis, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone and his thick, dark pubic hair, as his cock continues to bully your most sensitive spot.

Suddenly your muscles tense, thighs clamping around him, your forehead pressing hard into his, as his hips slam up into you. You let out a low whine as you peak again, vision blackening, all your muscles tensing as your walls clench around him.

Eddie follows almost immediately, thrusting harshly upwards and pulling your hips down onto him, and you feel rushes of warmth as he groans and empties himself inside your fluttering cunt.

There’s quiet for a moment, and all you can hear is your panting breaths and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, foreheads feasting against each other, heartbeats slowing and breathing becoming more regular.

Breathlessly, and without full clarity, you sit up slightly and mumble “Fuck, Eddie, that was…”

Eddie chews a little on the inside of his lower lip, and with the widest, sexiest smile you’ve ever seen, replies softly,

“Merry Christmas, Boots.”

After a few moments spent pecking kisses on various parts of your face, making you giggle, Eddie eventually helps you to lift off his slowly softening cock. He leans over to retrieve his discarded tank top and uses it to help clean the mess you both made between your legs.

You unpeel yourselves from the golden throne, feeling sure the heels of your boots have left marks in your ass, and he aids your passage back to the locker room on wobbly legs, helping you wash and making sure you’re ok.

As you gather your things he changes into his street clothes. They’re not dissimilar to last night, though he’s foregone the chain belt and has chosen a somewhat more fully intact shirt, and he watches you as he slings on his leather jacket.

Almost ready, you look down forlornly at your gaping tights, the hole barely covered by the hem of your skirt. Eddie chuckles, and tries to lighten your hosiery-related mood.

“Perhaps I could buy you a new pair? Maybe at lunch tomorrow we could go visit your favourite shop, and you could pick out something nice?”

The image of Santa and one of his elves nonchalantly browsing the displays in a sex shop amuses you greatly, and you tell him so, but he insists he would totally do it, if you wanted to.

There’s a pause as you retrieve your coat and go to put it on, and as you do he adds,

“Well, I’d call it a Christmas gift, but… I’d actually prefer to get you something a little nicer. If you’re around. And you’d let me, of course.”

You’re surprised by Eddie’s unexpected tenderness, and the implication that he might want to continue… whateverthisis. You don’t want to presume anything, but there’s certainly a little tingle in your belly at the thought.

You reply, sardonically, “Sure, I guess. So long as it’s not red and glittery, I think I've had enough things like that to last me for a little while.”

You both snort-laugh at this.

As you start to walk together to the staff exit at the back of the mall, Eddie offers to take your bag so you can fasten your coat and put on your hat and gloves.

Trying to sound casual, he asks, “Sooo, how’re you gettin’ back to Robin’s?”

“I was gonna take the bus, like usual.”

Eddie looks at you sideways, slightly bashful.

“Could I, maybe, give you a ride? We can stop at Benny’s on the way, if you’re hungry. It's a diner”, he clarifies, remembering that you’re not from around here.

Your tummy flips, and not just from the thought of a milkshake and fries.

“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”

Eddie smiles that wide smile again, and you see his cheeks turn a little pink. It’s odd, him being all shy and self-conscious after what you two have just done, but somehow it’s also incredibly endearing.

As he walks you through the parking lot, still carrying your bag and toying with a stray piece of tinsel that he found in his pocket, he says,

“Y’know, I’d still really like to see what you do with that Christmas dildo.”

Thinking back to how he looked all tangled up, you smirk back at him as you think of how you’d quite like a redo of him tied up for you.

As you reach his van, you lean against the passenger door and coyly look at him.

“Well, maybe I could show you. Could we, maybe, do something after work tomorrow?”

With the sweetest dimpled smile you think you’ve ever seen, Eddie cocks his head to one side and lifts a hand to run the tip of one forefinger along your jawline, as he replies in that low rumble,

“Oh, Boots, you should know by now. All you have to do is ask.”

🎄You may not yet be completely sold on the whole idea of The Holidays™️, but you’ll have to admit to Robin that this might well be the start of your Best. Christmas. Ever.🎄

Thanks so much for reading! ILY 🥰

Please support your content creators by not only liking but also commenting and reblogging - it’s so important. If you liked this there’s a good chance others will too, and comments and reblogs are the only way posts get seen. Consider it a Christmas gift to your writers and followers 😍🎅🏼 Thank you, and Happy Holidays, however you celebrate!

Resources: Proof that Deck The Halls can be sung to the tune of War Pigs (and vice versa), plus the ‘Fa la la’ 😊🎄

[vodika-vibes]

Congrats on the 500 followers! It is well deserved!

For my request :)

Gemstone: Ruby or sapphire. Your choice!

Partner: I’m going to have to go with Echo. He’s one of my favourites.

Season: I’ve always loved sunset in the fall because of all of the colours.

I have no thoughts as to where this would go so have fun with it :)

Congratulations again! Thank you so much for doing requests!

Sunset Kisses

Summary: Sunset has always been your favorite time of day, luckily Echo agrees.

Pairing: TBB Echo x GN!Reader

Word Count: 575

Prompt: Ruby - Passionate Love

Warnings: Echo got possessed by the ghost of Fives or Jesse or both and made a very innuendo-y comment.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope this story makes you happy, because it basically sprang from my fingers fully written, lol.

Honestly, you weren’t planning on spending your evening sitting on a rock and watching the sunset over the water, but here you are anyway. You’ve always loved watching the sunset, even when you were a child, and now that it's fall, the setting sun paints the skies in pinks and purples and oranges-

It speaks to the artist deep in your heart.

Shame you don’t have the time to put paint on a canvas anymore.

You lean back, casting your gaze out over the water, allowing all of the stress of the day to fade away, just for a moment.

“Have room for one more?”

You tilt your head to the side, and a small smile plays on your lips when you see Echo standing there, “Didn’t know you liked watching the sunset, Echo. You seem a bit…steady for that.”

It’s not an insult, and he seems amused by your comment, “Well, how can I not when it’s so pretty?” Though he keeps his gaze locked on you, and you feel yourself flush.

“Well, there’s plenty of room, if you don’t mind being close.” You reply with a small smile.

He climbs up onto the boulder with ease, and settles next to you, your thighs pressed together. Echo doesn’t, technically, need to be so close, there is enough room that he doesn’t have to be pressed against you, but you don’t mind.

It’s Echo after all.

And you’ve been crushing on him for weeks.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The sunset is painting him in gold and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen anything more gorgeous in your life.

Seeing this, you can understand why people believe in the divine. 

His lips curl up, “You’re staring, mesh’la.”

“Ah! Sorry!” Your gaze snaps back to the water, though you glance at him when he laughs.

“I don’t mind,” He bumps you with his shoulder, “Though, I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking?”

“Um…nothing interesting.” You say sheepishly.

“Well, I definitely don’t believe that.” He bumps you again, “Come on, I won’t make fun of you, I promise.”

You definitely don’t want to have this conversation, but he’s so sweet-

You groan and press your hands over your burning face, “I was thinking that you look like a god when bathed in the gold of the setting sun. Please don’t laugh at me.”

Echo doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and you take a moment to glance at him from between your fingers. He looks stunned, and then a slow grin crosses his face, “Funny,” He says slowly, “Because I was thinking something very similar about you.”

“...wait, what-”

You’re not able to get anything else out because his lips are pressed heavily against yours. His hand comes up to press against your cheek, pulling you closer and closer, the kiss becoming more and more heated the longer it lasts.

And when he breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, you’re kind of breathless, and surprised. But there’s a little grin playing on his lips. “I was thinking,” Echo murmurs as his fingers trail down your throat, “Why don’t I walk you home?”

You tilt your head questioningly.

“That way I can worship you the way divinity is supposed to be worshiped.” His smile becomes sly, “On my knees.”

Your face heats, but you can’t pull your gaze away from his, “I think,” You mumble, “That sounds wonderful.”

[mrs-snape5984]

“Take my mind and take my pain…”

“Like an empty bottle takes the rain. And heal, heal, heal….” (“Heal” by Tom Odell)

Nighttime is my favourite time of the day. Being surrounded by this natural darkness and silence (not in the way, in which I have to “mute” the world all day long by shutting the blinds and wearing noise cancelling headphones to avoid being overstimulated) makes me feel…safe. Almost content.

In some nights, I’m even strong enough to leave my room, so I can sit outside on my balcony, enjoying a fresh breeze on my face. The world is silent, there’s no car on the streets and all I see, is the Moselle glistening in the moonlight in front of me. Finally feeling human again…

During the phases of my crashes, I can’t even step outside to my balcony. Sometimes I’m desperate enough to crawl outside, when my legs are refusing to do their goddamn job even with the help of my cane! In these moments, I’m glad to be alone…without any witnesses to my humiliation.

Last night was a lost night. I passed out…again. It scares me to hell that these moments are happening more often nowadays. All I know, is that I sat down on my bed…crying from exhaustion and pain. And hours later, when I’m coming back to consciousness, I’m still in the same sitting position. There are proofs in my room, that my children must have been here…proofs like a drawing lying next to me on my bed…a plushie sitting on my coffee table, watching over me. And I know that my kids will tell me, that I didn’t wake up…no matter what they tried to do.

Yesterday a friend of mine wanted to visit me in order to enjoy a cup of tea with me in the darkness of my room. I was so excited to see her…to have someone here for a little while…to feel less lonely for a moment. My body ached so badly and my exhaustion felt like a truck, who was parking on me…so I passed out whilst I was waiting for my friend to come over. When I came back to senses, there were several text messages and several calls from her. She was upset, that I didn’t hear the doorbell, both of my phones and her knocking on the door. So, after a while, she left…and all what’s left for me is a feeling of being a total failure…a pathetic shadow of myself.

There’s still no cure for ME/CFS…and no one knows, if there’d ever be one. All I can do, is trying different things, and yet…nothing helped me. With each new crash I’m falling deeper into the void of darkness and despair. Each new crash takes its toll on me…takes a piece of me away! I’m so afraid of losing myself completely!

When I commissioned my friend @sleepybradipo for this meaningful piece of art, I begged him to make the trust between Severus and Julia - but also their despair - palpable. They’re searching for a way to heal Jules…to cure her body and her soul. Maybe the answer lies in the Dark Arts…who knows? These lovers will try anything possible in order to save her…just like I wished to be saved.

Ivano, when I got the idea for this project, I just knew, that you would be the best artist to make my dream come true. Your tender style makes my heart swell with so much love and gratitude. I adore your work and the dedication to all these marvellous details in this artwork…it’s everything, I hoped to see, when I described my idea to you. Thank you for helping me to soothe my troubled heart and mind with your beautiful art and your kind words. I’m beyond grateful that I met you here, my friend. You’re truly a blessing to me. Thank you for everything. 🥹

Oh, and please take my apologies for this chaotically worded post. My disease seems to rob the next piece of me by stealing my ability to create vivid images with my phrases (I already mentioned that in my last post).

I’m sharing my nocturnal view with you. Feel free to enjoy the Moselle at night.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[netegf]

violet chemistry (ii)

pairing: aged up!ao'nung x f!metkayina reader

plot: you and ao'nung attempt to regain control in your lives by fake-dating. the irony is… this is fated.

word count: 2.7k

a/n: the next instalment in my fake-dating!, friends to lovers!, best friend’s brother!au - once again, this takes place roughly 10 years after atwow - some pining + flirting, made-up rituals, attempts at comedy, & angst (WILL be resolved)! i really hope you enjoy part 2 🥹💖

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In all honesty, Ao’nung has been trying his hardest to avoid you. Only, that impulse is very quickly thwarted when he considers how many clan gatherings and rituals courting Na’vi couples attend together. Sitting before you and the azure clay bowl of paint you hold in your hand, for the first time in a long time, Ao’nung has a single thought. He really hadn’t thought this through.

“Stop moving.” You hum, brows pinched together in concentration as you swirl the coal-coloured paint with a brush much like the baleen of a whale’s mouth. Sitting with the feelings he’s been having, a part of him wonders what it might be like to be suspended in water and consumed entirely into the jaws of a sea beast. He listens almost immediately, then realizes that’s slightly out of character for him, resorting to a slight narrow of the eye that makes him look younger than he is.  

“You’re strangely quiet.” Your eyes bore holes into him, but he has a gift for escaping confrontation – staring somewhere off in the distance until his vision blurs.

Ao’nung hopes he looks nonchalant when he shrugs, but knows you. Knows that your keen. He doesn’t know how many times he’s come to communal dinner with a face he thought he’d fixed, but you'd been able to tell there was something off. A mediator of energy; you might as well have been able to smell it off him. But this wasn’t something he could let go of. He might’ve saved his favourite kills for you during the hunt in childhood, but this was profound. Pandora spins on a different axis. Everything looks like it’s in a different colour. How long had he loved his friend?

“Yeah.” He admits, chewing on his bottom lip. “Just worried you’re gonna, y’know… ruin my face for life?”

You roll your eyes with emphasis.

The ritual he refers to is one in which courting Metkayina couples draw facial tattoos for each other in paint, emulating what might one day be permanent. Unfortunately, Ao’nung has known you long enough to know that artistry has not been one of your most obvious gifts, and you pinch your eyes at him as the smug words leave his mouth.

“Shut up.” You hiss. “Or I’ll draw Lo’ak on your cheek.”

“Ambitious goal for an amateur.” He punches back, then nearly recoils.

Ao’nung can feel himself being mean – meaner than usual – and it casts a cloud of shame over him. He really thought he’d passed that point in his life where he masqueraded around his feelings and hacked them up alone until his throat bled. Childish, it felt. Something that gave him grief and gratitude – annoyed at his immaturity, but a strange sense of happiness at the fact that he could afford it. Still, you deserved better, and that pained him.

You grant him a small scoff then continue your ministrations.

Naturally, his eyes come to focus on your eyebrows knitted together, your tongue darting out of your mouth ever so slightly as the artistic vision you have in your mind comes to fruition, the subtle tremor of your careful hands. Instinctively, one of his hands comes up to stabilize yours, gripping the joint of your wrist.

Breath hitching just slightly, you quirk a brow. “You know… if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you’re enjoying this.”

“Gotta get you to my mom.” He mumbles, hand dropping to his side like a dead fly. “Get your eyes checked.”

After a few more strokes of the brush, and a couple dozen eyerolls, the design is finished.

“Done.” You say happily, fingers holding Ao’nung’s chin as you admire your handy work.

The pattern isn’t particularly complex or striking, but it decorates the high points of his face, each dark shape a representation of his achievement and growth as a hunter, as future Olo'eyktan, and your favourite – boy that loves the water.

Ao’nung’s eyes widen when he takes in his reflection.

“It’s, uh… more subtle than I thought it would be.” He says finally, clearing his throat, heat colouring his cheeks a new kind of colour.

He had to admit, it was pretty. He must have imagined what this would feel like a thousand times in his life. That one day, he’d rise to his rank, wear his adornments, and feel completely different. Feel like he was worthy of his position in the clan. To his surprise, time moved fast, but he very rarely did. All Ao’nung felt over the years was a lot of sameness – but today, wearing your tattoos on his face, he felt a sense of pride pang in his chest. He looked the part, and maybe that meant something.

“Well, we can’t have the clan forgetting you’re handsome. However would they stand your prickly temperament?”

Ao’nung feels prepared to roll his eyes at the diss, but then he catches himself. Better yet, he catches you, saying something you hadn’t exactly meant to reveal, but knew to be true nonetheless. He looks at you cautiously.

“You think I’m handsome?”

Chewing your bottom lip, you contemplate for a moment. Was there really anything wrong with admitting it? Just about everyone on the reef thought so, he had to have known that.

“Everyone thinks you’re handsome, Ao.” You try to soothe over the slip-up. “People line up to see you when you come back from the hunt, I think someone fainted when you tamed tsurak, this information can’t be surpris-,”

“But you.” He says quickly, eyes excruciatingly earnest. “You think I’m handsome?”

“Yes…I do.”

Ao’nung supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, and yet he is. He wasn’t a stranger to be being praised for his looks, but this was uncharted territory – a line that had never been crossed, and maybe intentionally so. Since when did you think so? Since when did a compliment for him fall so easily off your pretty lips and tongue like you were the only one he was meant to receive such words from?

You must have noticed his slow blinks and slightly gaping mouth as he thinks through it all, because then you’re saying something that has him absolutely reeling.

“Eywa, if that blows your mind, how are you going to react to the fact that I had a crush on you half my life?”

There’s a hint of humour in your tone, but Ao’nung is having a hard time understanding why it’s so funny – eyes nearly bulging out and erratic breaths practically choking him.

“Had?” He stammers, past-tense poking a hole in his heart. “When?”

“When?” You snort. “Like, forever. Well, until I grew out of it.”

He must look insane, brain jumping from thought to thought, zoning in on words that illuminate a fire in his gut, and others that just as quickly put the fire out in a wade of water that he, for once, does not welcome. A revelation, and the revocation of it. A sparkling jewel in his palm mere seconds before it disintegrates, leaving no trace of what once was, as if it were merely a tantalizing mirage and nothing more.  

“When the Sully’s arrived?”

“Yup.” You say too casually for his liking, popping the ‘p’. “And before… and after.”

“But I was so mean.”

He bites his tongue almost bitterly, almost incredulous. He had admirers over the years, sure – but those were souls that knew him from great distance, and there was comfort in that. But you… you knew him. Not just the great triumphs, but the pitfalls which were equal in magnitude and not for the faint hearted. He had to admit, his concept of love was more superficial. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel it, at least not in the way his parents did – in his eyes, they got lucky, and his future partnership was bound to be more political than it was anything else. And maybe that was his crutch, the lack of feeling. Maybe that was the reason he’d never crossed this line, never entertained having you as his.

Because that would be all-consuming. That would be the truest thing he’d ever felt – really a fish out of water like everyone pegged him to be. Painfully new, and painfully beautiful, and completely unrecoverable if it ended up not working out.

Though at this moment, he hates himself for that careful distance between you – the way this is a wound you’ve presumably healed from, while he bleeds out right before your eyes.  

“What can I say?” You smile, teasing him in the way you do, the way he loves. “I like a challenge.”

“Right.” He manages, breath still shaky, but the corners of his mouth slowly lifting.

The tide was changing and he needed to find a way to make it stop.

Apparently, his father was right. All those years spent build levees would finally coming to good use.

The night’s festivities are an especially generous feast and a series of dance rituals that you, while hesitant to admit it, know like the back of your hand.

Ao’nung sits with his father and other seasoned hunters in the clan, nodding absentmindedly to their spirited conversation about tracking game, which he admittedly knew very little about.

Really, he smiled when they smiled, stroked his chin when they seemed to debate something, and when he really hadn’t a clue what Tonowari was saying, gave a pretend laugh followed by a silent prayer to the great mother that he wasn’t being informed about someone’s death.

He had more important matters to mull over. Like you, sitting across the fire pit, engrossed in a conversation with his sister.

Entirely too receptive to his gaze, you momentarily stall from your speech to meet his eyes, lips curving into a small smile and hands giving a tentative wave. Ao’nung opts out of waving back but holds his piercing stare, convinced that the rounds of your eyes are more illuminating than the fire – and unlike its embers, your luminosity will stay.

“My son,” Tonowari’s voice booms over the overlapping chatter. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”  

Ao’nung nearly chokes, the tips of his ears turning an endearing shade of purple as he realizes he’s been gawking for far too long, and the last topic he recalls listening to was three conversations ago.

“I think, uh… everyone has made some important points.” He mumbles, while you and Tsireya snicker at him from across the fire.

Tonowari quirks an eyebrow at him, but luckily, chooses not to harp on it. He slaps a hand over Ao’nung’s back as if to excuse him from the conversation – not that he was contributing much anyways.

Ao’nung smiles gratefully and quickly makes his way over to you, scratching the back of his neck.

“Was that as embarrassing as I think it was?”

“Even more.” You laugh, scrunching your nose in a teasing kind of sympathy. “But it’s okay, we still love you.”

The ease to which the word ‘love’ falls out of your mouth makes him wince a little – this wasn’t the kind of love he’d found himself craving from you as of late, tossing and turning in his marui when he’s meant to be sleeping, very much aware that he’s awake behind those closed eyelids. He turns to Tsireya.

“Can I borrow her?” He asks as his sister’s eyes swell with intrigue. He feels the need to explain. “For a dance.”

Tsireya nods, a small smirk on her face before she dismisses herself.

“Duty calls?” You ask, shivering as his hands find their place on your hips, the pair of you slowly swaying back and forth to the beat of ceremonial drums. This is a practice for all courting Na’vi couples – they surround you at all sides, clumsily moving their bodies and giggling together, their love almost something physical in the air.

“Something like that.” He mumbles, eyes sheepishly raking over you. “You look nice.”

“I don’t have any extra food, Ao.”

“What? I don’t want your food.” He erupts. “I’m being serious.”

“Oh, okay. In that case, thanks. You look nice, too.”

Ao’nung’s ears perk up, toothy canines peeking out from under his lips in a sideways smile. He hopes the budding violet colour on your cheeks means what he thinks it does.

“So, what have you been up to?”

“Since I saw you this morning?” You repeat, eyebrow slightly raised.

“Yes. I mean, no.” He breathes shakily, rubbing his face in dismay. “Or, you know, in general.”

“Nothing too crazy.” You say softly, a certain lamenting in your voice. “I kind of live in a box, remember?”

Ao’nung nods. He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking for a moment, the heels of his feet burning as he tries to think up a way to make that sad look in your eye disappear.

“But I’m here.” He offers.

“Yeah. You’re here.”

The way your eyes soften as you say words has his heart soaring. He leans in a little closer, the rhythmic buzzing of the percussion reaching a peak. Your mouth parts slightly. It feels like it means something.

But you’re soon interrupted when the music stops and all the couples come to a halt, just the painful empty air of what could’ve been filling the space between you.

Ronal appears from just across the fire-pit as she pulls her son in for a conversation he’s sure he won’t listen to. He mouths a gentle ‘sorry’ before disappearing, leaving you with your thoughts and Tsireya, who takes a seat on the log next to you.

“You two look friendly. Or should I say, more than friendly?” Her grin looks like it could reach her ears it’s so wide.

“It’s pretend.” You remind her dejectedly. “Just because you and Lo’ak are going strong, doesn’t mean you can bring your loved-up vibes over here.”

Tsireya scrunches her nose in displeasure at the English word. It didn’t mean much when Lo’ak used it in conversation, and it didn’t mean much now.  

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but my brother pretends very poorly.”

Your gaze shifts to where Ao’nung is standing, eyes trained on his mother with a far-away look in his eyes – you have to force yourself to bite back a laugh.

“He doesn’t see me that way, Reya. He never has.” You sigh, chewing on your bottom lip. “And besides, even if he did… I can’t be the mate he needs.”

“You love him, do you not?” She asks, clearly puzzled.

You look at Ao’nung again, now speaking in a small circle of Na’vi.

One member in particular makes your tender heart ache. A young Metkayina woman. She’s a skilled weaver and even better huntress. Beautiful, reliable, eager for leadership and responsibility. Not weighed down by strangeness. Not heavy with unbridled emotion. Strong and loving, in the way he needs – more palatable.

“Maybe love just isn’t enough sometimes.”

“Maybe,” Tsireya’s voice breaks through your spiral. “You are scared.”

Perhaps Tsireya has a point, or perhaps she doesn’t. Regardless, the constricting in your chest is hard to shake off. Even when she softly cups your cheek before walking away. Even when Ao’nung finds a way to escape whatever boring topic of discussion that has it’s claws digging into his sides, and his lips, yearning for yours, again. Small smile teasing at his mouth, he tugs at your hand.

“Hey, maybe we can get them to play a little more? Have another dance?”

“Ao… I think we need to stop. I-I don’t want to do this anymore.”

More than the words, it’s the pain in your eyes that punches him hard in the gut, leaving his lungs gasping for mouthfuls of air that don’t seem to dull the stinging. Your breaths do something similar, chest heaving, fighting every instinct in your body that tells you this is wrong because protecting him feels more important. It’s in that moment that Ao’nung realizes he doesn’t like comparing you to fire. It’s born to die. Warm and hungry, but it’s not for touching and it’s not forever.

His hand leaps forward to catch your shoulder, but you’re bolting before he can follow-through – fingers flinching back from the heat on your skin.

a/n: reblogs + tags are always appreciated 🪐🩷🫶🏼 i hope you enjoyed! how do we feel about part 3? 🤭

[m1lflov3rrr]

Tattoo (NSFW)

Pairing: Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, degradation kink, praise kink, mommy kink, bdsm, edging, orgasm denial, smut with slight plot

Word count: 2,519

Summary: You thought you’d surprise your girlfriend…

”Oh, this is going to be great!!” Your friend Lily squealed in excitement as you told her about your plan to surprise your girlfriend of two years, Larissa Weems. 

”I know, right! She’ll be left speechless.” You said smirking. You were walking to the tattoo shop with your friend as you had the idea a few nights ago. You were going to surprise your girlfriend by getting a tattoo on your lower inner lip, that would spell ’mommy’. You knew that you might be pushing your luck, since Larissa would always scold you if you mentioned getting anything tattooed onto your body. She was always so modest and elegant, but deep down you knew that she would find it hot. She just didn’t want to admit it. 

”Hello, ladies! Welcome, what did you have in mind?” Asked the man in the shop as you arrived. 

You exchanged knowing looks with Lily, and responded, ”I’d like to get a tattoo on my lower inner lip, if that’s possible.” 

The man smiles, seemingly delighted, ”Absolutely! What kind of tattoo would you like?” 

”I’d like one that spells ’mommy’.” You said. 

The tattoo artist smirked and clasped his hands together in excitement. ”You’re bold. I like you. Come on, let’s get started!” 

You sat down on the chair and he sat across from you, Lily was standing there, looking thrilled. 

And before you knew, you got started. 

About 30 minutes later, the man announced that he is done and handed you a mirror to have a look. You gasped, ”This is exactly how I wanted it! Thank you, so much!” 

You paid and made a plan for tonight, for the big reveal. 

-

You got back home, finding Larissa working in her office. You had bought a house six months ago, and it was the best thing that had happened to you. It was a two-story house, in the Jericho suburban. You decided it was best to live in Jericho, as you both had a job at Nevermore. Her as the principal, you as one of the teachers. It was the perfect arrangement. 

”Helloo,” You called out as you peeked through the doors to her office. 

Larissa’s gaze immediately snapped from her work to you, a big smile started to plaster all over her face. ”Darling! Oh, I’m so glad to see you, I’ve missed you! How was your day with Lily?” 

You smirked internally, walking over to her and sitting on her lap, wrapping your hands around her neck. ”It was good, we went for lunch and did a little shopping.” 

”Well, I’m glad to hear that. I’ll be done in 20 minutes, okay?” 

You smiled and nodded, getting up and pecking her on the lips. Then, you went to the kitchen and prepared dinner for you two, you decided on lasagne. Out of you two, you were the cook. Sure, you weren’t the best at cooking, but definitely better than Larissa. You chuckled to yourself as you remembered that one time she tried to surprise you and make you a romantic dinner, only to forget the food in the oven for too long and burning it. Gladly, you two had then made a new dinner together, and the night ended on a good note. 

After dinner was done, you set the table, just in time for Larissa to come into the kitchen. 

You raised an unimpressed brow at her, ”I thought you said 20 minutes,” You said disapprovingly, checking your watch. ”It’s been an hour, Larissa.” 

She sighed, wrapping her arms around your waist. ”I know, I’m sorry. I just had to respond to all the emails and get the paperwork done. Now, I’m all yours.” 

You chuckled and she sat down on the table. ”Mmh, that smells delicious. Is that lasagne?” 

”Yes, it is.” You said, setting the bowl on the table. 

”My favourite.” She said as she put some of the food on her plate and started eating, letting out a heavenly moan at the taste, to which you giggled quietly. 

The dinner went by normally, just you two chatting about your week. And as you finished eating, you were the first one to get up, picking up the plates. But Larissa stopped you. 

”Ah, ah. You’ve done enough, let me do this.” 

You smiled at her and kissed her softly, ”Thank you, I’ll be upstairs.” 

And with that, you ran as fast as possible to your shared bedroom, rummaging through your closet and quickly changing your undergarments into something sexier. You picked a black lingerie with a matching bra, and changed quickly, putting on your normal clothes back on so your girlfriend wouldn’t suspect anything. 

You sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard and scrolling on your phone as Larissa entered the room. She sat down on the bed and pulled you to her embrace, peppering your face with kisses. 

You giggled at her, pushing her gently away from your face. Now was the time. 

”I have a surprise for you,” You said, taking in every micro-expression from the woman. 

She furrowed her brows in confusion, but she seemed very excited, too. ”What is it?” 

Without a word, you seductively looked into her eyes and raised your right hand to your lower lip, pulling it and showing her the text.��

Her eyes widened and she gasped audibly as she saw what you had done. ”My goodness, what have you done to yourself?!” She exclaimed, replacing your hand on your lip with hers, swiping her thumb across it. 

You smiled and tried to speak as clearly you could, that- ”I wanted to leave you astonished, which by the looks of it, I obviously did succeed at.” You said mockingly, smirking. 

”You…” She said, narrowing her eyes. Her shocked eyes soon turned to ones filled with lust and desire. ”You did this for your mommy?” She asked, still in disbelief. 

You nodded, looking up at her through your eyelashes, playing innocent. 

She hummed in satisfaction, and without a warning, gripping your chin tightly in her hand to ensure eye contact. ”I must admit, it does suit you. My name suits on you, Y/N. And I will go to any lengths necessary to ensure that no one will see this, but me. No one will touch you like I do, sweet girl, I own you.” She growled, and you pressed your tights together, already feeling the heat between your legs. 

This action didn’t go unnoticed by Larissa, as she looked down and back up to your eyes with a dangerous, hungry smirk, ”Aww, aren’t you just so horny for me? Such a needy slut for mommy?” 

And the headspace her words alone sent you, was enough to make you hazy and nodding vigorously to anything she was saying. ”Y-yes, mommy. I need you, please,” 

She smirked at your neediness, ”But you’ve been such a bad girl for mommy, haven’t you? Going behind mommy’s back, doing this to your body. I think you deserve a punishment, don’t you think?” 

Your cheeks flushed at her low and hoarse tone, you gulped and nodded. 

She looked at you like you were her prey, like she had to do so much to prevent herself from eating you whole. And before you even had time to process anything, she was crashing her lips against yours, tightly gripping your hair as her hand went behind your head. You yelped in surprise, this was something new. You had to do anything not to release a pathethic whimper at her actions. 

She pushed you off her lap, resting you to lie down on the bed. ”Now, strip.” She said. It was not a question, it was a demand. 

You widened your eyes in surprise, not knowing how to respond to her unusual tone in bed. 

Before you could react to anything, there was a loud smack, echoing through the walls of your shared bedroom. She had slapped you. ”Is it really that hard to do as mommy says? I said, strip.” She almost growled at you, leaving you no room to argue. So, you did. You noticed her smirking at your choice of lingerie. And soon, all your clothes were thrown somewhere across the room, you were back in your laying position. 

She ran her slenger finger from your neck, to your chest, to your stomach, sliding it down to caress your wet folds. You gasped loudly as she came to rub your clit slowly. ”Please,” You breathed out. 

”Tsk, tsk. None of that. You’re going to stay right here, in this position,” She said as she took your wrists and held them above your head. Then, she let go, but you didn’t dare to move. She went to her closet, pulling out a box you hadn’t seen before. You frowned at her while she had a smirk on her face. Then, she pulled out handcuffs. Handcuffs. 

You widened your eyes and your jaw dropped, as she came back to sit on the bed and tied your hands, locking them in place on both ends of the headboard. 

Then, she started sucking on your chest, giving your nipples special attention while she brought her knee between your legs. You sunconsciously started grinding your exposed core against her, to gain at least some friction. She obviously noticed this, as she smirked against your breasts and pulled her knee away. Then, she stood up again, pulling something else from the box. A vibrator. 

Your eyes were watering in need, you wanted her to touch you so bad. ”Mommy, please, please fuck me, I’ll be good, your good girl,” You pleaded, the remains of your dignity hopping out the window. 

She raised her eyebrows at you, ”Already begging, darling? Well, since you asked so nicely,” She said as she turned the vibrator on, leaving it on the lowest setting and going up to place it on your clit. And as she did, you moaned loudly. ”Mommy, s’good, please, more,” 

She did as you said, putting the level higher and higher as you chased your orgasm. Your moans and whimpers got louder and louder, and you started bucking your hips at the toy, arching your back and trying to close your legs. But her incredibly strong hands came to stop you from closing them, opening them as wide as possible. 

”Ah, please, oh god, mommy, I’m going to-” You said between disordered breaths and moans. And just as you thought you would reach your peak, she pulled the toy away, causing you to whimper loudly. ”What? No, mommy, please,” 

She came up to your face and kissed your lips passionately, squeezing your boobs with both of her hands, causing you to yelp in her mouth. She chuckled lowly, almost sadistically, watching you beg her to let you cum. But she wouldn’t let you off that easily, no. 

”Oh, baby, don’t worry, you’ll get what you want…” She faux cooed. ”…Later.” And turned on the vibrator, on the lowest setting and putting it back to your aching core. You moaned again, looking at her with pleading eyes. You wanted to touch her too, but you couldn’t. Your hands were tied. She caressed your hair, enjoying the view of you whimpering beneath her. Then, she abruptly got up, ”I’m going to take a shower, enjoy yourself,” And left the room. 

”What?! Mommy, you can’t leave me like this, please!” You screamed, the pleasure was not good enough to make you cum. No matter how much you would buck your hips and arch your back, it wouldn’t let you reach your peak. She wanted you to suffer. 

And oh, you did. When Larissa came back into the bedroom thirty minutes later, you were a mess. Panting and seeking any sort of friction. ”Please, please, I’m begging you mommy! I’ll do anything, I swear, just please let me cum!” You cried, tears falling down your cheeks. 

She tsked. ”Aww, my little girl is just so horny, isn’t she? Should mommy help her out?” She questioned. 

”Yes, yes! Please,” You begged. 

She looked like she’s contemplating it, before smiling and nodding. You breathed out in relief, finally. 

She dropped the towel that was covering her naked body, ”Only if you make mommy feel good first. Then, you’ll get your reward. Does that sound good, darling?” 

You nodded vigorously and whimpered as she climbed on the bed, closer to you, before sitting on your face. Her arousal was obvious, glistening her pussy. You wasted no time in teasing her, as she grabbed the headboard to steady herself. And you started licking her, from her entrance to her clit, and back. She moved her hips in rhythm of your sucking, you even pushed your tongue in as far as you could a few times. 

”Ah, right there, don’t stop! You’re doing such a good job, little slut. Just like that, oh!” She moaned loudly while riding your face. 

As her breathing became disordered and she wasn’t bucking her hips in rhythm anymore, you knew she was close. You picked up your pace, trying to pleasure her as well as you could in this situation. 

”Ah, Y/N, just like that! I’m going to-” Her own moans interrupted her as she reached her orgasm, screaming in pleasure. You let her ride it out, being more gentle with her as she must’ve been sensitive. You licked her cum and she got off of you, and kissed your lips, letting her taste herself. She moaned into your mouth, ”You did so good for mommy, I think you deserve your reward.” 

And she went down on you, still with the vibrator in the lowest setting. Then, she plunged two fingers inside of you, causing you to scream in pleasure. She set the vibrator in the highest possible setting, laying it on your clit. 

”Oh, oh! Mommy, god, faster, harder!” You screamed. 

And she did, go faster and harder. With her other hand, she came and touched your boobs, pinching your nipples. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, it was simply seconds until you would see stars. 

”Ah! Mommy, I’m going to cum, please, ah,” You stuttered between your unholy moans. 

She chuckled, ”Cum for me, darling,” 

And instantly, you did. It was the best feeling ever. The exctacy, the euphoria, the pure bliss you were feeling. You were panting, hard. She let you ride it out, and then, pulled her fingers slowly out of you and turned the vibrator off. She came up to you and you already knew what she wanted you to do. You opened your mouth and sucked her digits clean, and she groaned at the sight. Her voice was just adding to the high you were in, the hazyness you felt. 

”You did so good for me, baby,” She cooed, this time genuinely. You released her fingers with a pop, smiling at her. Then, she put the vibrator back in the box and pulled something else out. A huge, black strap-on. Your jaw dropped at the sight as she put it on herself. 

She looked at you in amusement, ”Oh, you didn’t think we were done, did you? Oh, darling. It’s going to be a long night.” 

[kquil]

HIS FLORIST, HER TATTOOIST

PAIR. : Sirius Black x Lilly (moot)

SUM. : Lilly is the florist working in the flower shop next door and Sirius is the tattooist with a growing crush and unhelpful friends...

TAGS. : biker sirius ; tattooist sirius ; florist lilly ; booklover lilly ; romance at a bookshop ; remus' birthday is coming up ; silent pinning ; leather-wearing sirius ; puppy love ; fluff ; cuteness! ; my moots are adorable and this proves it!

LENGTH : 1.9k

DEDICATED TO @somewereinthegalaxi (1k cake request)

EVENT : CLOSED

The first time Sirius saw you, he couldn’t believe his eyes. You were a beauty. Your long, wavy brown hair was always accompanied by some sort of breeze and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face into your locks and breath in your fragrance. He bets you smell like the sweetest, most alluring blossom. You’re short and pretty, the perfect height and figure for him to wrap his arms around and squeeze, just so he could stare into your gorgeous doe-like eyes, press a kiss onto your button nose and eventually your perfect, full lips. 

And the fact that you had been working next door to him for, who knows how long, without his realisation has his mind scrambled. Have you seen him already? He hopes to god you don’t know—

“Oh she knows,” Remus chuckles from beside him, which makes the dark-haired tattoo artist groan. He can’t even protest the statement, “you’re not really the shy type when it comes to your pursuits,” 

Sirius looks over his shoulder as he leans back against his parked motorcycle. Past the glass of your flower shop, he sees you float around the space, in between stretching stems, dangling foliage and delicately proffering petals. It was like you were dancing a beautiful waltz; a ballerina on a stage. 

Ever the encouraging brother-figure, James claps Sirius on the shoulder with an bright smile, “No worries Padfoot, she’ll come around to you eventually, just lay on the charm like you usually do,” 

“I don’t want to,” the biker protests weakly, a small blossom of appreciation awaking in his chest from James’ encouragement. 

“How come?”

Sirius didn’t know how to respond – his own silence and lack of a straight answer making him wince. He was never the best at deciphering his own emotions, a flaw that has pushed many romantic interests away. A permanent deterrent in his life. But, ever the observant and intuitive friend, Remus answers for him, “you don’t want to treat her like all those other girls, huh?” a look of soft pride settles into the brunette's features, before a gentle chuckle passes his lips, “finally growing up, I see?”

“Sod off, Moony,” he snaps half-heartedly as his two best friends laugh at him – all in good fun, never with ill-intent and he eventually joins them. 

You weren’t oblivious to the stares, no. How could you be? Someone that handsome with that many girls lined up just to be around him was someone you couldn’t ignore. What struck you as completely odd, however, was why he had suddenly taken such an interest in you and why in the world did he frequent your street so often? 

In your peripheral, you watch as another dolled up girl approaches him with fluttering lashes and a sickly-sweet smile. All while he leans his frame against a lamppost situated outside your quaint little flower shop, smoking a cigarette. 

That awful habit seemed to be his only vice. On a normal day, you’re not a big fan of smokers, however, he frustratingly makes the flaw rather attractive when associated with his character. A character of rather long, dark locks; steel grey eyes; unblemished pale skin and angular features, he looks like a character straight out of a fairy tale. You can easily see him becoming one of your favourite characters if he ever was in one. It makes you sigh – a cross between dreamy and despondent – and turn away from the scene unfolding outside your shop window. 

The jealousy stirring in your stomach was unfounded; it wasn’t appropriate for you to feel as though you had some claim over him when you didn’t even know him personally. However, you childishly wanted to argue that having seen him out there, smoking his cigarette in his all-black, leather attire, almost every since you’ve opened up the shop grounded your otherwise unreasonable possessiveness with some sensibility. Breathing another sigh, you tend to your tulips before turning towards the decorative flora you had yet to organise and display. 

Although…

A thought occurs to you. 

He no longer seems to be the pursuer as of late…

You wonder what’s changed.  

Out of all places, you never thought to see him in a bookshop! Your – he isn’t yours! You remind yourself – mysterious philanderer in leather was going between the Philosophy and Classical Literature sections of the bookshop and you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. A leather-clad romeo who favoured philosophy and classical literature genres? Was he the poetic and romantic sort too? You wanted desperately to freely cultivate more affection for him but feared the consequences of doing so. It was frightening how much you adored him despite being complete strangers to each other.

It takes you a while to realise that in your inner turmoil, you’ve unintentionally begun to stare at him. And, upon perceiving the action, immediately tried to look away if it weren’t for the troubled expression you glimpse of his perfect face. Irritation visibly furrows his brow as the weight of burden draws his lips down into a frown. Looking down, in his hands are two books and it dawns on you his dilemma. It’s a war you often find yourself in whenever you’re in the bookshop too and a blossom of sympathy blooms in your chest for his situation. With silent footsteps, you approach his towering figure, pressed on by a surge of confidence. The familiarity and relatability of his predicament encourages you to reach out a helping hand but, as you draw near and his broad shoulders grow larger, appearing more daunting than ever, your steps falter. Maybe you shouldn’t?... 

Biting your lip, you argue with yourself for a moment and inevitably let your self-doubt win. Your reaching hand lowers and your shoulders slump, with a suppressed sigh, you turn and move to step away from his figure. 

Your – he’s not yours! – unnamed, mysterious, handsome leather-clad casanova will have to remain a stranger…

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas or Letters from a Stoic by Seneca? 

It was a hard choice but one that Sirius needed to make urgently for Remus’ upcoming birthday. The Count of Monte Cristo was a novel Remus loved. He already had a well-loved (worn) paperback copy that he had read through multiple times, so getting him a special edition hardcover of the novel would be a wise purchase. However, that was a rather safe option. Turning to examine the other book in hand, Sirius contemplates his friend’s more recent interest in Philosophy, especially stoicism. But was Seneca a good choice or should he go for Meditations by Marcus Aurelius? Was that option too customary?

Perhaps if he had the book with him…

Turning around, Sirius is slow to lift his eyes and ends up walking straight into you just as you were turning away. His eyes snap up and his arms reach forward when he hears your yelp and feels the collision of your body against his. In a matter of seconds, he’s pulled you safely into his chest, dropping the books in his hands to secure your safety. 

“Whoa!” he chuckles nervously under his breath, “Sorry about that, dollface,” he doesn’t hurry to move away, not wanting to shock you further with any more sudden movements and definitely not because he was immediately inebriated by your alluring fragrance nor the softness of your smaller body against his. 

“I-It’s okay,” you let out a soft, nervous laugh in return and twist in his arms to look up at him. In that moment, the world stops spinning and Sirius finds his breath stolen away by the sight of your sweet, doe eyes, cute button nose and kissable full lips. 

You’re the flower shop girl…  

“Oh!” you blink at him in surprise and he swallows his awe of adoration, “You know my flower shop?” 

Fuck! I said that out loud didn’t I?

Giggling, you nod, still in his arms but not seeming to mind in the least bit, “yes, you did,”

“Sorry about that, doll,” he hastily removes his arms from around you and hurriedly goes to pick up the two books he dropped in the collision. From afar you were an untouchable daydream constantly enticing him through glass windows but up close, you’re a dream come true, pretty and sweet and perfectly suited to be in his arms. This new unshakable feeling is the first time he’s ever felt around a girl. He’s had plenty of lovers in the past but no one has had such a disarming effect on him like you and you were a complete stranger. 

His voice is hypnotic and sweet, smooth and deliciously melodic to your ears. And the way he called you ‘dollface’! You’re weak in the knees and this close to drooling over the man. Desperately needing a distraction, you fix your eyes onto the covers of the books he picks up from the floor. The book titles catch your eye and immediately has you starting up conversations, which, thankfully, Sirius was more than eager to participate in, grateful for the change in topic. 

Come to find out, he, unfortunately, wasn’t the secret literary romantic you had imagined him to be but the research he conducted behind the scenes for his friend, Remus, touched your heart. In fact, that made him more attractive than the potential that he was a classics-lover. 

“Hey uh,” Sirius starts, catching your attention as you turn to face him, “I really appreciate you helping me out with this, Lilly,” he motions to his bookshop purchase and bites his lip from the radiant smile you face him with. God you’re so pretty…

“It was no problem, it was finally nice meeting you, Sirius,” your sweet voice makes his name sound so much lovelier than it really is.

“I’d love to return the favour…” he whispers, his voice is deep and dulcet, and you finally witness his casanova tendencies firsthand. There’s a tempting glint in his eyes as they look down on you while his hand gently brings your knuckles to his lips, “will you let me give you a ride home, dollface?”

“Yes please…” you sigh breathlessly, so starry-eyed that you couldn’t even feel embarrassed. Not that Sirius let on ever noticing your sudden dreamlike propensity. With a smile and a gentle hand on your lower back, he leads you outside to stand before a familiar looking motorbike. 

“This is my bike,” he says proudly, grinning as he turns to you and begins to shrug off his leather jacket. For a moment, you mull over where you’ve seen that bike before. It didn’t take you too long, however, as a gasp of shock and realisation leaves your parted lips when you glimpse Sirius’ heavily tattooed arms. And your mind finally pieces everything together. 

“Y-You’re the…”

“I work in the tattoo shop next to you,” he chuckles, taking your moment of shock to drape his leather jacket around you, “there, so you can stay warm,” he whispers fondly, eyes warm and soft as they take you in. Unable to help himself, Sirius leans down to press a kiss into the crown of your head, and moans softly at the fragrance of your hair wafting up his nose and into his brain. You make his head so foggy, you’re like a dangerous pill. But a pill he’ll gladly take over and over again until nearly poisoned and made an addict. 

“All this time…” you utter softly, feeling a heat rise up your neck and to your cheeks. 

He laughs in good humour, “I know,” he rummages around for a spare helmet. Turning back to you, he finds you swamped under his jacket and innocently looking up at him with the sweetest look.

God he could kiss you right now…

“Oh um…I-I wouldn’t complain but you should, at least, take me out to dinner first…” you joke despite the sudden onslaught of fluttering butterflies in your stomach. 

Fuck…he said it out loud again!

“Yes, yes you did,”

A/N : im so sorry for how late this is darling! it really wasn't my intention, i think my perfectionism really got in the way, again i needed to keep this under 2k words but easily could have written up to 5k with the plot lines i was coming up with for it gah! the possibilities were endless and i wanted it to be so perfect for you! i hope it's to your liking for now, i love you so much ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)!♡

1K MILESTONE EVENT : CLOSED | NAVI.

1K MILESTONE MLIST

[espresseo-cafe]

life is still beautiful | johnny | ch.2

genre: cappucino, romance, angst, university!au, dad!au, drama, slice of life

pairing: collegestudent!johnny x fem!reader

bean count: 3.7k

a/n: ch.2 is here! enjoy reading my beans 🤎 note: this is only a work of fiction, it doesn’t reflect the artists’ personalities in any way.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“y/n,” your professor jogged up to you, the papers in her arms all hugged up towards her chest. “you got time?”

you drank your cup of latte as you turned to face her, sipping the last bit of it before discarding it to the bin close by. “yes ms. lee, what is it?”

“your grades are coming up the ranks, you’re in the top 10.” she fixed her glasses, her smile widening little by little announcing such a news to you. “i see so much improvement compared to when you started back in year one. i’m not being biased but don’t tell anyone you’re one of my favourites of your year.”

assuring, that was what you felt as those words filled your ears and infiltrated down to your heart; causing it to expand around your body in a warm, fuzzy, feeling. like a warm cup of chocolate to tend to the cold weather, it was music to your ears. you may not show it, but you were happy, too happy that you might as well run around the campus.

“thank you, professor.” you smiled, your feet tapping a little too much, to which she noticed.

“you deserve it, y/n.” she patted your arm before shaking it softly, “because of that, you’re already in the dean’s list for this course. congrats.”

now this time you were jumping small hops. “this is amazing! i’m out of words!”

“yeah, if only your parents could see how much you’ve grown.” she said cautiously, knowing about your relationship with them. but you knew it’d come, it was natural to bring up your achievements to your parents.

if only they paid attention.

giving her a nod, you looked down at the mention of your mom and dad. the air slowly tightened, the atmosphere immediately became awkward. “i hope so. uh, i’ll have to go to my part time at the kindergarten. don’t wanna be late.” you somewhat said enthusiastically.

“oh yes, yes. you should get going.” she gestured for you to leave, “i’ll see you at the dean’s camp in two months okay?”

“yeah, see you.”

that was one of the advantages of taking this course, you could have a part time whilst studying. to gain experience, and the other? interacting with little kids. growing up as an only child, you’ve always wanted to have a companion but obviously your parents’ relationship were already in the rocks not too long after you were born.

tapping your card to enter the pre-school, you were greeted by yeri, who was a new part timer and your junior. you held in a laughter when she was struggling to make three of the kids to stop crying. “y/n! thank heavens you’re finally here! a little help please?”

you approached the kids who were throwing fits. “alright, who wants a marshmallow?” you sat in front of them eye to eye level, making all three look at you, hiccupping and sniffing.

“me.” they said in unison.

“okay, then could you help me with something?” you said softly, smiling, but your voice was firm.

“yes.”

“if you stop crying and behave, and help clean up your toys, i’ll give you three marshmallows each.”

the kids immediately stood up, wiping their faces and racing to pick up the toys that were scattered around the classroom. yeri shook her head in amazement, “wow, bribing them with a treat? they never mentioned it in the books.”

“i’m surprised you’ve never thought about that.” you teased, putting your bag away in a staff shelf, just beside yeri’s belongings. “we have until 5pm. who else isn’t here?”

“um.” yeri flipped a notebook, her finger lining the roll call book. “liam and jade.”

“hm,” your finger ran through your chin, “jade i can understand, because they recently moved apartments, they’re still adjusting. but liam? it’s been a few days that he’s been late.”

“maybe his family moved as well?” yeri suggested, making you pull a face. “what? it’s a possibility. and to add, he’s your favorite kid over here, you always ask for the boy.”

“he’s adorable! and he’s a smart kid.” you reasoned out, “look, maybe-“ your phone rang, a notification showed up. yeri looked on your phone so nosily, nearly choking on her water.

“since when did you start using love click?” she coughed, a smile evident on her face.

“since two days ago.. yoohyeon forced me to make one and apparently make out with someone.” you sighed, taking your phone.

yeri’s laughter heard in your ears. “well, she made a right suggestion, you need to date at least once in your life, y/n. so, the app found you a match?”

“yeah, after two days. talk about consistency.” you unlocked your phone, the notification made you want to gag. “‘we have found you a match!’ it says. ugh, i’m disgusted.”

“you scared you’ll date a weird, creepy guy?”

“i’d rather switch to tinder thank you very much.”

the door opened to reveal liam running towards the classroom. “miss y/n, liam here!”

“hi liam!” you put your phone down, walking towards the little boy and knelt in front of him. yeri sighed, then smiling at you. you were a good teacher, but you sure did have favourites.

—

johnny never expected to look after or raise a child so early in his life. funny how a child could change someone instantly, now he was his whole world. it was like an instinct he was meant to have, sure, the first few weeks were the worst. youngmin would cry every single time he couldn’t drink milk, and obviously, johnny could definitely not provide such skin to skin contact. though his research; he found out that youngmin could start milk formula straight away. most of the time he was a quiet and a happy baby.

now that he was a little bit older, youngmin was vocal in almost about anything. johnny looked through the shelf full of toddler toys, pondering on which theme or gift he’d get for youngmin. most of it were either paw patrol or marvel related, and being the marvel fan he was, johnny set his mind on the superhero team.

taeyong looked at the older boy, a smirk unreadable. “you’re really going all out this year for youngmin’s second birthday.”

“of course man, youngmin was struck by a fever last year that we had to postpone his birthday trip to chicago. on his first birthday.” johnny told him as he ran his hands along the captain america plushies. “and thanks to that, i missed a week full of lectures due to flu and fever.”

“that’s understood. and don’t stress too much about it, the guys and i will be here to help.” taeyong reassured him, knowing that johnny did so much to raise a little boy whilst studying. it amazed him how his friend was able to manage such a tedious task.

“thanks bro, i’m glad-“ his back hit on someone briefly, and he mumbled an apology before continue his conversation, “-that you guys could look after youngmin when i’m busy with projects. my parents lived quite far at the time.”

taeyong brushed his tongue, “you still owe me a couple of bucks for babysitting your kid while you studied for your exams.”

your kid.. johnny still felt jittery whenever youngmin was referred to as his. the feeling just hitting him every now and then, and when did, he was really happy. “hey, i never agreed to pay you.”

taeyong gave a giggle that every mother at the toys’ aisle looked at him as if he came out of a novel. “i know, i know. i was just kidding.”

“come on, let’s just get on with shopping.” johnny shook his head while his friend followed him suit.

the moment you stepped out of the mall, yoohyeon questioned your weird gesture as you walked towards her, your hand rubbing your forehead to soothe the pain from whatever happened earlier.

she sipped on her iced lemon tea, later throwing it away. “okay i know you could be sensitive, but what on earth happened to your forehead?”

you hissed at the sore, stinging feeling. “i’d like to know too. some guy was busy walking backwards while talking to his friend.”

“did he apologise though?” she asked as you both walked towards elevator to the carpark.

“yeah but man that guy really has a strong built.” you shook the bag, “alright, i got my niece’s gifts. we’ve got to get wrapping!”

“how many kid parties are we attending this month?” yoohyeon whined, “i’m getting tired of being your bag holder.”

“can’t help that our past seniors and teachers chose me as their kids’ godmother.” you fixed the items in the paper bags. “i don’t know why they love me so much.”

yoohyeon gasped as if she heard the same self appraisal. “pfft, don’t act humble. you clearly know why you’re the favoured person.”

you giggled, you loved the feeling of being trusted. so you guessed it was normal to be all out, somehow you had to control the spending spree. “there’s still one more party so that’ll be our last item to look for.”

“ugh finally! i could rest my legs from walking the whole day!” yoohyeon smiled, walking ahead of you.

thank goodness you made it home before the thunderstorm came crashing in the city. sitting in front of your study table, you scrolled through youtube to watch some videos. your projects and essays were done, so a leisure time on the net was a way to go to bring your mind out of stress and deadlines.

asmr cooking videos were a favourite, you had learnt to cook by just watching and yoohyeon was probably so spoiled by you.

a knock heard from the door. yoohyeon came out from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth, her wet hair wrapped with a towel. opening the door, yeri stood with her belongings; her face all red, her eyes all puffy, and her clothes soaked from the rain, head to toe.

“oh crap.” she incoherently mumbled. “y/n! your minion’s here!”

“yeri?” you looked by the door, walking towards it. “what happened?” you asked worriedly and took her belongings, giving her space to enter before quickly grabbing a spare towel to keep her from catching a cold. “you’re all soaked.”

“i couldn’t take it anymore, y/n.” she sniffed, “the hate and the backstabbing and all.”

“you must be tired.” wiping her face with the towel. “tell us after you have yourself cleaned.”

you paced around the dorm while giving small little bites on your finger. you knew the rumours that has been going around her. and they weren’t good ones. yoohyeon tapping her foot slightly frustrated, saying that you worried too much and should calm down.

calming down was an option you considered. worrying was a trait you wished you never entertained or had. it all started back at home, when all that worrying in your head would become reality if you see either your mom or dad leaving with a luggage in hand.

yeri was sure taking her time in there, and it was quiet.. too quiet that yoohyeon and yourself looked at each other. yoohyeon knocked on the door, calling her name out as you took the spare keys.

the door flung open and the both of you see yeri laying on floor as if she passed out. yoohyeon squealed in shock while you remained calm, checking for any injuries. to your relief, there weren’t any so you proceeded feeling her heartbeat, it slowly beating under your fingers. she must’ve fainted from exhaustion, you thought. you asked yoohyeon to call an ambulance, them arrving in five minutes.

it was about five in the afternoon when yeri woke up, blinking quickly when she saw you seated beside her. tearing up, she apologised for being a nuisance.

“you were never a nuisance, yeri.” you patted her head, “what’s really going on?”

yeri bubbled her cheeks, her eyes darting across the room. “my roommates jennifer and others set me up with this guy- mark lee, the transferee from vancouver. they told me he liked me, and said that he was waiting for me at the rooftop.” you nodded as she continued, “he was there, and i was too excited that i told him that i liked him as well. he was puzzled and left, and then my roommates were watching the whole time while taking a video, laughing.”

you scoffed, “who are these girls? imma give them a lesson or two if they need any.”

“no. you don’t want to mess with them, their families are big names around here. it’ll be messy if you get involved.”

“okay, in the meantime you can stay in my dorm until we find you a new one.” you smiled, patting her head once again, “i have to get going, got dinner to make. you rest well for the night, okay?”

yeri waved with a small smile before the door slid close, fading away as you were out of sight. she sighed, reaching for her phone in her bag. she wanted to tell you more about her life in university. how it wasn’t as fun as she thought it’d be. she was about to shoot you a text message when the door slid open again.

this time, it wasn’t you. but she was happy to see this certain person, it had been a while since they’ve hung out.

“i heard the nurses call your name when i stopped by to submit some health records.” he said, taking his cap off and hanging it on the clothes rack nearby. “what happened?”

yeri smiled from ear to ear. “johnny! i’m glad you’re here. i just had a concussion when i visited my senior. she brought me here.”

“well i gotta thank her when i see her then.” johnny patted her head and her eyes widened as her skin turned a little pink. this little expression caught johnny’s attention. “what’s with your face?”

“uh..” she looked away, her lips pressed into a thin line. she did the same thing before she left. “oh! i know! i’ll set you guys both up! you’ve broken up with minji right?”

johnny flared his nose and snickered, “yeah and where’d you hear that from?”

“lucas.”

“and where did lucas hear that from?” he asked before he and yeri answered the same time.

“jungwoo.”

“jungwoo.”

they both laughed for a minute and johnny immediately felt bad for leaving early when he just got here. “sorry yeri, i have to take my leave, youngmin’s at my parents place and i have to bring him home to the dorms for dinner.”

“it’s alright, you haven’t been bringing him to uni lately. i miss that little cutie.” yeri smiled, already shooing him away.

“he started playgroup lately. he’s a busy kid now.” he chuckled. “oh be there for youngmin’s second birthday! at the mom and dad’s home.” he handed her an invitation and her eyes lit up.

“great! i’ll be there.”

—

you stared at your phone back and forth while having breakfast with yoohyeon in the morning. your foot placed on the chair while eating your omelette with bacon and kimchi fried rice, yoohyeon curled her tongue and held in a laugh.

“can’t you stay put y/n?” she chewed in between words, “what are you glancing back and forth of your phone for?”

“this app you told me to download and try doesn’t work, does it?” yoohyeon’s eyes grew wide hearing those words from you. you didn’t show any interest after she had told you about it, and to see this unleash before her eyes was something new to her. “it says they’ve found me a match but it’s been two weeks and nothing’s happened.”

“oh honey you gotta check if you accepted it. it’s kinda like a friend request.”

raising your brows, “maybe the person didn’t accept it too.” you checked on the match this ridiculous app paired you with, yoohyeon asking the information of your possible partner. “i don’t know.. what if this person is a creep?”

yoohyeon by now didn’t even bother counting the times she rolled her eyes at you, chewing so unladylike before putting down her bowl, “here lemme see.” showing you the plus button to accept the match.

“now that you’ve done it, i’m actually creeped out.” staring at the username, you didnt’t really know what to feel. maybe it was the right time to start searching, your university years would finish two summers later and yoohyeon would tease you about it and you’d probably won’t hear the end of it either.

“so which one of your godchildrens’ birthdays are we going to first? i’m only in it for the food and gossips.”

“i swear you’re gonna be that annoying auntie who’d pester the kids.” you laughed, checking your schedule on your desktop, “let’s see, gotta attend kahi-unnie’s son’s birthday and we’ll go from there onwards. goodness, they’re all on the same day.”

you were thankful that yoohyeon accompanied you to buy gifts for your godchildren but wanted to strangle her for leaving you behind with a huge gift. a step forward you almost tripped when a hand grabbed your arm.

“oh minhyun,” you jumped a little in surprise, seeing him smiling at you then shaking his head at his girlfriend’s figure walking towards the party.

minhyun just smiled at you before letting your hand go and carried the big, yellow wrapped gift. “that’s minhyun-oppa for you.”

you groaned and chuckled, “i don’t want to call you that, it’s corny.”

he clicked his tongue hearing your response, “you’re like a little sister so you got no choice, y/n.”

you started to walk to kahi’s house with minhyun, “tell yoohyeon she owes me a ramen dinner.” seeing kahi waving at you in joy.

“having too much ramen isn’t healthy, lil sis!” you rolled your eyes at his constant reminder.

“auntie y/n!” kahi’s 4 year old son, noah, hugged your legs before letting out a high pitched squeal, seeing his gift double his size, “is that mine?!”

you ruffled his head and knelt down to his eye level, “yes it is! but, you can open it once the party is finished.” he gave you a pout so hilariously funny before walking backwards with his arms crossed. you turned to kahi only to realize she was pregnant.

“oh- wow, noah seems to want another playmate. congrats!”

“baby number 3.” she winked, “i hope it’s a girl this time.”

the party was decorated with colourful balloons and streamers of blue and white, stripes were the accent, anchored plushies for little chair cushions, and sailor hats were used in exchange for traditional coned ones.

kahi really went out this time, given with the fact she was busy at work for noah’s previous birthdays. being a co-owner of a performing arts center sure took most of her time. and now that she was on maternity leave, she’d spend it more with her sons.

she excused herself while she tended to other guests of the party, so you chose to walk around the area to admire the scenery.

you inhaled the fresh breeze that greeted you with serenity, it has been a while since you encountered this kind of peace. it wrapped you figure in a hug you wished you had before. it was cool; yet it was gentle, contrary to the gushing storm you had back home.

sometimes you unconsiously wondered how your parents were, but you brushed it off before it ruined your mood. spotting a fruit punch section, you decided to cool your mind even further while the heat started to prick your skin.

you wanted to squeal in joy when the mixture of bright fruits zapped up together with light alcohol- the tanginess from pineapples and passionfruits, the sweetness from mangoes, and zesty lemons and oranges were a sweet wake up call.

though that caught your attention in your tastebuds, something else diverted that. a tug from below the table made you look down, it was a toddler’s hand gripping your favorite floral dress.

ah, my heart’s melting, you thought.

you didn’t know why but he made you smile like an idiot.. this baby was cute, too cute he looked up at you and showed off his growing bunny teeth.

“hey there little cutie. what are you doing under the table?” you asked him, bending down to see him eating a bite-sized donut. “afraid of too many people?”

the toddler just hummed, as if he understood clearly. well, you couldn’t tell how old he was because he was rather big. maybe two and half years old? you weren’t sure. you peeked around to see if his parents were looking for him, but none, much to your dismay.

you didn’t want to leave him alone, so you gestured for him to follow you towards the open balcony. only to have your heart melted even more when he reached both of his hands to you, asking for a carry.

“oh.” you smiled and picked him up as he rubbed his eyes. “aw, you tired buddy? where’s your mom and dad?”

it wasn’t quite audible for you to hear but the kid mumbled a lot, it was adorable. fortunately, he liked the sun and slept in your embrace in a jiffy, nuzzling his little face on your shoulder.

johnny could barely escape the doting mothers and single ladies of his senior’s friends. they asked him so many questions about his personal life when he probably repeated several variations of the same answers.

he finally could get a breather after he politely excused himself from the crowd, not forgetting that he didn’t come to the party alone. he sighed a bit tiredly until he saw fruit punch on the table, thinking he could relax a little after a drink.

the sun greeted him brightly that he used his forearm to shield his eyes from its rays. if the sun wasn’t so bright, he probably could make out what he was seeing in front of him quicker before his heart garnered him stunned:

it was a faint sihouette of a young lady whose back was facing him, carrying youngmin gently as she cradled him to sleep.

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